Arms
by realornotreal22
Summary: Finn and Rachel story inspired by the lyrics from Christina Perri's song, "Arms". As of now, there are no spoilers and no definitive time frame pertaining to the show. Just a little ever necessary Finchel romance. Rated as such for mild profanity.
1. Heart from the Start

_Author's Note: _I haven't written in quite some time, but, after hearing Christina Perri's "Arms", this little ficlet came to mind. This chapter is mostly Rachel centered with a bit of Finn/Finchel thrown into the mix. I'm expecting the next chapter to be much better. ;-) Please read and review!

_Disclaimer: _I do not own any form of Glee or its characters. The only thing I would consider mine is the writing and the plot. Finchel, FTW!

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><p>"<em>I never thought that you<em>

_would be the one to hold my heart._

_You came around and you knocked me _

_off the ground from the start."_

The tardy bell rang vociferously, echoing rather vehemently against the pale pink walls of the girls' restroom. I listened as the cacophony of latecomers' footsteps slowly faded in the hall before again wiping the tears from my cheeks with a damp tissue. It was time for class, I knew, but I couldn't bring myself to stand and march across the filthy, rumored to have once been white, tiles to the grimy door and to my first period class. It was easier, safer, and infinitely more appealing to sit, huddled next to a toilet, on the bathroom floor than in a classroom full of peers who simply wished me constant pain. I'd dealt with hate on a daily basis, but there are times when even the most outwardly confident people break down; this was one of those rare moments for me. I clutched my legs ever tighter to my chest before softly dropping my prominent chin onto my uninjured knee, not bothering to swipe at the lone tear trailing down my cheek.

It wasn't unusual for Quinn Fabray to call me names, but accompanying those hurtful taunts with violence most definitely was. To be called a "Fugly Bitch" was one thing, but it was quite another for it to be followed by a very forceful shove into a locker; even without the "Whoops! Sorry about that. Hey, maybe your locker can do a better job on your nose than your parents did!" comment, I knew from the strength of her shove that Quinn had meant to cause me bodily injury. I sighed sadly, momentarily contemplating calling one of my dads to pick me up. It would be so easy, _so _easy, to retrieve my cell phone from my diamond studded kitten bag and dial one of their numbers…I was truly tempted, but I knew of the repercussions that would await me tomorrow if I were to disappear after the very public performance starring myself and Quinn Fabray, the very picture of perfection, innocence, and grace. I could only imagine the thoughts forming in the minds of the students in my first period class; the words that they are planning to say to Quinn concerning my absence; the laughter emanating from the whole school when they realize that it only takes a few taunts and a shove to run Rachel Berry off campus. I lifted my head from my knee as I thought of the rather probable scene and decided not to take the easy route. I furiously wiped the fresh tears away before, gingerly, getting to my feet. I leaned against the wall for a moment to inspect the damage by gently bending my knee; I winced slightly, but found that the pain was minimal, at best, upon movement. I quickly threw the tissue in the toilet, grabbed my bag, and made my way out of the stall and to the mirror above one of the many sinks. Fortunately, my 15 minutes of tears left little to no marks on my face; neither, it seemed, did the locker. I gazed into my desolate muddy browns, searching for any sign of timidity or fear; all had been erased and only determination stood in their wake. I breathed in and out deeply for 30 seconds to further calm myself before leaving the bathroom without looking back.

_"Glee!"_

"Have those papers on my desk Monday morning! If it isn't in front of me before the bell rings, it is considered late!" Mr. Townsend, the sophomore English teacher, yelled over the talking students and the rustling of binders being thrown haphazardly into backpacks. The majority of the students paid little to no attention to him; they all knew that if enough of them didn't do the assignment over the weekend, he would grant them all an extension.

I slowly slid my books into my bag, taking as much time as possible in the hopes that there were no students left to trip me on my way out the door, as was often the case. Upon seeing no potential perpetrators, I hurriedly left the classroom and, with my head held purposefully high, began the treacherous trek to my locker. Before I reached it, however, I heard my name being called by an unfamiliar voice over the usual roar of the crowded hallway. I stopped in my tracks, curious but guarded after this morning's "episode". I turned to find none other than Finn Hudson, McKinley High's quarterback, jogging toward me.

"Rachel, hey," he said, the absolute picture of nonchalance.

"Umm…hi…" I trailed off, bringing my eyebrows together in confusion, for Finn Hudson had yet to speak a word to me since the start of our high school careers. He didn't seem to find this odd at all, since he stood in front of me with this incredibly adorable smile lighting up his face. Suddenly, I realized that this was more than likely an elaborate ruse of some kind to further humiliate me; at this thought, I took a large step away from his tall frame. With this action, it was his turn to bring his eyebrows together in confusion.

"Hey. Sorry. I just….umm….you left this on your desk." He held out a small, hardcover notebook with a gold star on the front; my journal. I mentally kicked myself for having left it behind, while hoping beyond hope that no one had read it. I slowly extended my arm to grasp the little book, looking up at him as I did so. His eyes met mine as my hand closed around the spine of the book, gently brushing his fingers. At the brief physical contact, a sort of shock passed through my fingers and up my arm. I gasped and both of us released the book; I heard its muffled clatter as it hit the tiled floor. Finn, the gentleman that he was, immediately bent down to pick it up. His chocolate brown eyes met mine as he again handed me the book.

"S-sorry about that….Umm…Here you go," he said and I carefully pulled the book out of his grasp.

"Thank you," I whispered, breaking our gaze before clutching the book to my chest.

"You're welcome," he whispered back, his quiet words forcing me to bring my eyes back to his. His adorable, sideways grin was back and, combined with his piercing gaze, my heart began to beat faster and slower at the same time.

"Bye, Rachel," he said, flashing a wider version of that grin before turning and walking down the hall. I watched his back until he disappeared around the corner. My heart raced and my stomach fluttered incessantly. It only took one kind gesture and one brief touch for me, Rachel Berry, the most unpopular girl in school, to be charmed by Finn Hudson, the star quarterback; I may have regained the possession of my journal, but it seems as though Finn may have gained the possession of my heart.

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><p><em>Please review! Thank you! <em>


	2. Cold and Blue

_Author's Note: This chapter takes place a few weeks after Finn and Rachel's first encounter. They have spoken to each other almost daily in the halls and/or in class, but their "meetings" are generally short and progress no further than casual chatting; they have not met outside the walls of McKinley High._

_Author's Note Two: Okay, so this chapter is pretty long…Sorry about that. When I had these scenes in my mind, I didn't anticipate them to be so lengthy on paper. Again, I apologize. I hope you like it anyway._

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><p>"<em>How many times will you<em>

_let me change my mind and turn around?_

_I can't decide if I'll let you save my life_

_or if I'll drown."_

The stage was a frightful endeavor to most, but to Rachel Berry, it was a comforting blanket. The blinding lights and the inevitable feeling of full disclosure only strengthened her love of the hard and shiny black surface. To Rachel, the stage was the safest place in the world; a place where she could be herself without having to worry about slushies or violence or humiliation. As her small feet danced expertly across the slightly scuffed stage, her voice rang out around the auditorium; the music echoed magnificently, forcing her to forget that her once pristine shirt was currently damp and sticking to her chest due to the second slushie thrown at her that day.

"_Without me, _

_his world will go on turning. _

_A world that's full of happiness_

_that I have never known._

_I love him_

_I love him_

_I love him,_

_but only on my own."_

She was so engrossed in the music that she failed to notice a tall, handsome teenage boy walk slowly into the room. Seemingly entranced by her voice, he stopped in his tracks to watch as the always petite girl became anything but small upon singing the final verse of a song that he'd never heard before. As the last note came to a close, he couldn't take his eyes off her brightened form, for he was completely in awe of everything that was Rachel Berry. It took the disappearance of the spotlight trained upon her to pull him out of his reverie.

"Wow. That was…amazing."

His whisper seemed to echo throughout the silent room. Rachel, startled, jumped slightly at the sound of his voice.

"F-Finn…What are you doing here?" She cleared her throat in a half-hearted attempt to hide her nervous stammer.

"I heard this really beautiful sound when I was out in the hall and, before I knew what was going on, I was in here. I…uh…didn't know you could sing like that…"he trailed off softly, sounding faintly out of breath.

Rachel nervously bit her lip before letting her eyes flicker to the ground so as not to meet Finn's gaze. She shook her head slowly, surprised with herself, for his was the first comment presented to her that went without fervent agreement. While silently wringing her hands, she let out a very modest and nearly inaudible "Thank you" upon forcing herself to meet his brown eyed gaze. Her heart fluttered madly as she looked down into those incredibly kind eyes.

Finn couldn't help but smile at her timidity; after witnessing her tenacity daily in the halls, it often shocked him just how quiet and shy she could be around him. He stared up at her from his spot in front of the four foot stage, reveling in the fact that, for once, he could see her every feature without having to duck down to do so. Time seemed to slow and stop completely as their gazes locked; his heart beat rapidly as the room around them seemed to disappear. He kept his eyes trained on hers, hardly daring to blink lest the moment that so readily enveloped them shattered. Rachel's hands began to shake as the intensity of his gaze overtook her; Finn's stomach flip-flopped restlessly like a fish out of water.

_BANG! _

Rachel jumped at the sound, letting out a loud shriek with the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Finn jumped as well, but, luckily, kept from shouting out. Rachel jerked her head in the direction of the noise, her figure uncharacteristically shaky.

"Just the door. A storm must be coming in if the wind is that strong…" she whispered, almost as though she were talking to herself. She blinked before turning away from the door, torn between relief and sadness about the interruption; neither of which showed on her face.

"I hope not. Playing football in the rain isn't as much fun as it sounds," Finn joked, trying his best to mask his confusion after their "moment". He couldn't understand why the world stopped when he looked at Rachel, but it kept on turning when he looked at Quinn. He had never looked Quinn in the eye and felt nervous, yet gloriously happy at the same time like he did with Rachel.

"Oh…I was gonna ask why you were still here. Silly. Of course, you'd have practice. Well, for your sake, I hope it doesn't rain," Rachel said, shooting him a sympathetic grin before making her way to the piano to gather her sheet music and book bag.

"Yeah, seriously." Finn laughed. "So, why are you still here? Just singing for fun?"

Rachel shook her head, slight smile on her face.

"Glee club auditions are tomorrow."

"Huh…really? I didn't even know we had a Glee Club," Finn said, dubious expression in place.

"Well, we didn't. Not really. Mr. Schue volunteered to take over after Mr. Ryerson was fire-…I mean, after he _left_ the position…" Rachel trailed off guiltily, hoping that Finn wouldn't question her pause or phrase change.

"Mr. Schuester? Our Spanish teacher? I didn't know he knew anything about music," Finn commented, surprised that Mr. Schue would volunteer to direct the high school Glee Club.

"Yeah…He was actually in the Glee Club when he went here. I heard he was pretty good," Rachel said as she walked down the stage steps with her bag in tow.

"Oh. Cool. That's really great. I like Mr. Schue. He's definitely one of the better teachers." Rachel nodded in agreement. "Hey, so, speaking of Mr. Schue. Can I…um…ask you a favor?"

Rachel stopped a few feet from him before looking up at his face, curious look in place. Her expression invited him to continue, but he couldn't help but feel the air of hesitance automatically encircling her. He pressed on quickly, momentarily wondering if she found him to be untrustworthy or if she was just wary of trusting others altogether.

"So, um…I noticed that you get really good grades in Spanish class…" Rachel's heart metaphorically thudded to a stop, forcing her to automatically assume the worst. _He wants me to help him cheat…He's been using me all this time…Of course he was, Rachel. Why else would the quarterback with the hot cheerleader girlfriend be talking to you?_ She cast her eyes downward at the thought, not really hearing him stammer on. "…So, I was wondering if you…you know, if it's not too much trouble…could, maybe…tutor me…?"

Rachel's eyes shot up to meet his. Had she heard him right? _He doesn't want to cheat? He wants me to _help_ him? _Finn, taking her shocked silence as negative sign, began babbling like crazy.

"You don't have to. I mean, I know that you've got a lot of things to do and you probably don't have time to tutor a moron like me, but I just noticed that you're really smart and you always get good grades and I never do and I just really wanna pass this class since Mr. Schue's such a nice guy and everything and I kinda wanna keep playing sports and I can't if I flunk Spanish…" He trailed off at the sound of her amused chuckle.

"What…?" he asked, rather shyly in Rachel's opinion.

"Nothing…You're cute when you're nervous." She smiled up at him before realizing that she'd said that out loud. She cast her eyes downward again when glimpsing his slightly crooked grin. She nervously fiddled with her necklace and swallowed before speaking again.

"You're not a moron, Finn…Anyone with your time consuming athletic schedule could easily fall behind in something like Spanish," Rachel said, her tone one of fierce determination. "That being said, I would love to help. When and where?"

"Um…well, the next big test is coming up pretty quick, so as soon as possible would be best. Is tonight okay? At your house? You know, so you don't have to find a way to my house since you're doing me a favor, I mean," Finn said, trying to hide his smile after witnessing her legendary tenacity first hand.

"Sure…Except, can we do it at your house?" Rachel asked, knowing full well that she was not ready to have Finn Hudson in her home, least of all her bedroom.

"Are you sure? I don't wanna inconvenience you…" Finn asked, hesitating.

"You're not. Honestly. What time do you want me to come over?"

"Is seven okay?" Finn asked, somewhat surprised by her pushiness. It took everything in him not to grin like an idiot as she spoke in that tone.

"Sure. I'll see you at seven," Rachel said, flashing him a charm smile before heading toward the auditorium door. "Bye, Finn"

"Bye…" Finn whispered, awestruck, as he watched her walk away. "Hey, Rachel!"

She turned at the sound of her name.

"I know you don't need it, but good luck on your audition tomorrow. I know you'll kill it," he said, crooked grin in place.

"Thanks, Finn." Rachel grinned back before exiting the auditorium.

_Glee!_

"Hey, Mom, I'm home!" Finn called as he made his way down the photo covered walls of the Hudson's hallway.

"Hi, Hon. How was practice?" Carole asked as her son dropped his gym bag and backpack in the hall just before entering the kitchen.

"You know; same old, same old," Finn said as he walked to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. He sat at the kitchen table across from his mother after unscrewing the cap and taking a long drink of cold water.

"Coach Tanaka making you all work hard this season?" she asked as she sorted through the multitude of bills spread across the table.

"You have no idea. I don't think he was happy about our killer loss last season," Finn said as he absentmindedly fiddled with his half empty water bottle.

Carole chuckled before reaching over to pat her son on the arm.

"Don't worry, Honey. The team will do better this year, now that you're captain."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom," Finn said modestly. "Hey, I'm having a friend over in an hour or so. Is that okay? She's gonna help me with Spanish."

"Sure, Finn. Of course, that's okay," Carole said, surprised that he was making an effort to raise his Spanish grade with little to no cajoling from her.

"Thanks. I'm gonna go shower before she gets here," Finn said before getting up, grabbing his bags, and making his way upstairs to his bedroom.

_I don't know who this girl is, but I like her already if just the pretense of her presence can get my son to do homework, shower, and take his dirty bags upstairs without being asked, _Carole thought.

Less than an hour later, the doorbell rang throughout the house. Before Carole could stand from her seat at the table to get the door, Finn was already bounding down the stairs to reach it first. The door opened to reveal a petite brunette wearing a white sweater with a horse printed on the front, a plaid skirt, and white, knee-high stockings.

"Hi, Rachel," Finn said, grin spreading across his face at the sight of her.

"Hi, Finn," Rachel said, also smiling at the sight of him in his Paramore T-shirt, vest, and blue jeans.

"Are you going to let your friend in, Finn?" Carole politely reminded him.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. Come on in." Finn stepped aside, flustered and slightly irritated with himself for forgetting his manners. "Mom, this is Rachel. Rachel, this is my mom, Carole."

"Good evening, Mrs. Hudson. It's nice to meet you. I'm here to tutor Finn in Spanish," Rachel said quickly, extending her hand to Carole.

"Please, Dear, call me Carole. It's very nice to meet you, too. Finn told me that you were kind enough to help him. Thank you."

"It's no trouble. Really." Rachel shook her head, polite smile on her face as she glanced up at Finn. He flashed her his slightly crooked grin as their eyes met.

"Well, um, you can just head up to my room, Rach. It's the first one on the right," Finn said, gesturing to the stairs. Rachel, surprised at the use of a nickname, grinned.

"Don't worry, Mom, I'll leave the door open," Finn whispered so Rachel couldn't hear before following her up the stairs. Carole shook her head, smiling in spite of herself. _I hope Miss Berry sticks around. I quite like this polite, clean, and thoughtful son who does homework as opposed to playing Xbox, _she thought as she made her way back to the kitchen.

Once Rachel stepped into his room, her eyes immediately settled on the full drum set in the corner. She walked over to it, lightly trailing her index finger down the nearest and largest cymbal. She turned after a moment, feeling his gaze on her, finger still grazing the golden cymbal.

"You play the drums." It wasn't a question, Finn knew, but he answered her all the same.

"Yeah. I've been playing since I was a kid."

"Really? I didn't know you knew anything about music," Rachel teased, mimicking his earlier comment about Mr. Schue. Finn laughed and shrugged.

"I know a bit." Rachel smiled, secretly thrilled that they appeared to have something in common other than Spanish class. Finn watched her as she took in the rest of his room; posters of bands and athletes and the few framed pictures of himself as a kid. _I can't believe I'm in Finn Hudson's bedroom! This is so surreal, _Rachel thought as she glimpsed a picture of Finn at the age of 9 or 10 wearing a football uniform. She bit her lip before turning to him.

"We can sit on my bed or on the floor…Whichever you want," Finn said, standing by the doorway. Rachel nodded swiftly before slipping off her shoes and sitting at the end of Finn's bed, legs curled beneath her. She opened her bag and pulled out her homework, setting it softly in her lap. When she noticed Finn still by the doorway, she cocked her head to the side, eyebrows raised in question. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling before walking over to his bed. _My god, she's so adorable, _he thought as he sat with his back against the wall, facing Rachel; he pulled out his homework as well, silently hoping not to make a fool of himself in front of her.

"Okay, so let's see what our homework is for tonight," Rachel said as she flipped through her Spanish book to the assigned page. Finn, opening his book as well, intended to flip to the correct page; unfortunately, he found himself much more focused on how Rachel's delicate, dark brown hair fell over her shoulder, creating a soft, shiny wall between them. All he could think about was reaching over and tucking that hair behind her ear and cradling her soft cheek in his hand. His heartbeat steadily quickened and his stomach felt uneasy. _That feeling in your stomach…What was it that Mom once called it? Butterflies? Yep. That's it. I have freaking butterflies fluttering around in my stomach because Rachel Berry is in my room and sitting on my bed about a foot from me…Damn. Puckerman would seriously put a foot in my ass if he heard me talking about butterflies in my stomach. _

"Here we are. Conjugates." She lifted her head to look at him, the motion causing her hair to fall back into place. This action, coupled with her voice, snapped him out of his stupor. She glanced at his open book, noting that it was on the wrong page. "Umm…Finn? It might help if you're on the correct page…" she suggested, tone light and teasing.

"Oh, yeah. I was just going there," Finn said, again flustered and irritated with himself for looking stupid. Rachel, trying to hide her smile, ducked her head on the pretense of reading the page. _How is it that everything he does or says is so incredibly charming?_ She thought. _His smiles, especially his little half smile, the way he ducks his head to get a better look at me, the way he shuffles his feet and babbles about nothing when he's nervous…Then there's his uncanny ability to make my heart race and turn me into a bumbling mess with only the lightest touch, smallest smile, or quickest glance..._ Her heart fluttered noisily in her chest, not at all unlike a bird flapping around in its cage. She glanced at him, sure that he could somehow hear it. When he didn't look up from the page, she exhaled quietly, telling herself to focus because she was here to help him with Spanish and only Spanish.

As she began to explain the homework, Finn did his best to concentrate on her words as opposed to the sultry sound of her voice.

"Okay. Do you understand?" She asked as she finished her instruction. She went on when Finn nodded. "How about we both do the first problem on our own and then we'll discuss it?" Rachel suggested. Finn picked up his pencil and began conjugating the verb "ir". He didn't get very far, for he found Rachel's close proximity to be highly distracting. They didn't even have to be touching for him to feel her beside him. Those damn butterflies were really making it hard to do homework. _What the hell is wrong with me? _Finn thought, half annoyed, half amused. _I've never had trouble being around girls before. How come it's different with Rachel?_

He shook his head before forcing himself to concentrate; while it took every fiber of his being, he found that, with Rachel's instruction and minimal interference, he could not only do that night's homework, but actually understand the concept.

"See? I knew you could do it!" Rachel said, excited.

"I can't believe this! Hours of class a week and nothing, but only an hour with you and I completely understand it? That's insane," Finn said, surprised with himself.

"It was all you; I just supervised," Rachel said, smiling. "Maybe you only needed a little extra instruction to get it."

"Do you think we could make this a weekly thing? I think it would really help me out," Finn asked. Rachel shrugged and nodded.

"Sure. As long as you need me."

"Thanks, Rach. Really. I think you just saved my GPA," Finn said, crooked grin in place.

"You're welcome." She glanced at him, surprised at how happy and excited he was; she was equally surprised at how excited she was for him.

It took only the meeting of their joyful gazes to put everything on hold again, just as it had happened in the auditorium earlier that day. All thoughts seemed to cease as Finn reached out and gently placed his hand on the side of her face after softly tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. Rachel's breath caught as his skin brushed against hers; her heart was beating louder than ever before as Finn slowly leaned toward her. The closer he got to her, the more uneasy his stomach felt. _Damn butterflies!_ Finn thought as he swept his thumb slowly across her cheek.

With their lips only centimeters apart, Rachel's cell phone began to ring. Both teenagers jumped apart at the noise. Rachel, incredibly flustered, searched for the source of the offending sound. The ringing continued to increase in volume; Rachel searched frantically, not noticing that during her crazed search, her pleated skirt covered her phone. Finn grasped her arm gently to get her to stop moving before reaching around her and retrieving her still ringing cell. _He smells so good_… Rachel thought as he handed her the phone and got off the bed to gather the books and papers she'd dropped on the floor in her haste. Finn stood with the objects in his hands as Rachel spoke to one of her fathers.

"Okay, Dad. I'll be out in a few minutes." She hung up. "So…my dad's here…" Finn nodded before handing her her book and homework to put in her bag; he tossed his own onto his bed.

"I'll walk you out." He said, leading the way out of his room and down the stairs. They stopped just before the front door and faced each other.

"So…thanks, again. I'll…um…see you at school tomorrow," Finn said, hands in his pockets.

"Yeah…See you at school." Rachel smiled as Finn opened the door for her. He watched her walk halfway down the driveway before she turned and rushed back to his house.

"Hey, I forgot to give you these," Rachel said, handing out a stack of index cards. "They're flashcards. I made them at the beginning of the year; they really helped me memorize the vocabulary. I think they'll be good for you to study independently."

"Thanks, Rach." Finn smiled. "Good night."

"Good night, Finn." She turned and walked toward the car, biting her lip to keep from smiling too much; she didn't want her Dad asking any more questions about the "cute, tall boy with the crooked smile".

_Glee!_

It was early. So early, in fact, that the school was practically deserted. Finn walked down the silent halls of McKinley, his footsteps echoing against the lockers in an almost disturbing manner. _Man, this is weird. No wonder I never come to school early. It's freaking creepy. It's like a damn teenage slasher movie._ Finn thought as he stopped in front of a closed classroom door. He held his hand poised in front of the blue, painted metal, breathing deeply. _Okay, man. Are you really gonna do this? Now's your chance to back out if you're gonna back out. _He thought again about the decision he'd made last night after Rachel had left his house. _Yep. I'm gonna do this._ He knocked softly before easing the door open and poking his head in the room.

"Hey, Mr. Schue. You got a second?" Finn asked, seeing his Spanish teacher sitting at his desk, more than likely grading yesterday's quizzes.

"Sure, Finn. What's up?" he asked, putting his pen down as he spoke.

Finn entered the room, however hesitantly, and stopped in front of Mr. Schuester's desk. His tall figure towered over the sitting teacher; he tightly grasped the backpack resting over his shoulder with one hand, nervously shuffling his feet as he did so.

"Is everything okay, Finn?" Mr. Schuester asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I think. I just…" Finn took a deep breath. "I wanna try out for Glee club," he said quickly.

"Well, that's great. Just put your name on the list that's hanging on the bulletin board. Auditions are today after school," Mr. Schue said, pleased and secretly glad that a "popular" kid wanted to join the club.

"Yeah, I know…That's the problem. I have football practice that I really can't miss it," Finn said quietly, shifting his eyes downward.

"Oh, that's right. Okay. Don't worry about it. Just come by the auditorium when practice is over and I'll be there." Mr. Schue smiled, letting Finn know that it wasn't an issue.

"Really? Thanks, Mr. Schue," Finn said gratefully before turning on his heel and walking toward the door.

"No problem. I'm glad you're trying out," Mr. Schuester said, stopping Finn in his tracks.

"Hey, Mr. Schue, do you mind if we keep this…to ourselves? My audition, I mean," Finn asked, somewhat hesitantly. He couldn't deal with Puck or his teammates' taunts before the audition; he didn't want them to use peer pressure to change his mind.

"Uh….sure, Finn, but you do know that I'll be posting a list on the bulletin board of people who made it in the club tomorrow, right?" Mr. Schue asked.

"Yeah, I know." Finn glanced toward the door, breaking eye contact. "Thanks, again, Mr. Schue. I'll see you after practice," Finn said as he exited the classroom.

_Glee!_

_I can't believe I'm doing this. Who the hell am I kidding? I'm not a singer. I play the freaking drums, for god's sake! At least I can't be laughed off the stage with no one here to witness this…_ Finn sighed and shook his head in disbelief as he made his way to the auditorium. Once he got backstage, he set his backpack on the floor, handed his music to the pianist, and walked determinedly onstage, mic in hand. Mr. Schue looked up from his position in the middle of the auditorium, polite smile on his face.

"Hey, Mr. Schue. Thanks for seeing me almost an hour after everyone else," Finn said, glancing at his watch.

"Really, it's no trouble. I'm glad you could make it. You can start whenever you're ready," Mr. Schuester said, looking away from the stage so as not to make Finn nervous.

Finn took a deep breath and placed the microphone in its stand before nodding at the pianist to indicate that he was ready. As the first few notes of the song began to echo around the auditorium, one image enveloped Finn's mind: Rachel sitting next to him in Spanish class wearing her usual sweater, skirt, knee high socks combo, fiddling with her pencil, long brown hair laying elegantly over her shoulder, slight grin on her face, chocolate brown eyes flicking toward him every few minutes…Almost immediately, his adorably crooked smile played on his lips as he leaned forward to position them over the mic.

"_I can't fight this feeling_

_any longer_

_and yet I'm still afraid_

_to let it flow._

_What started out as friendship_

_has grown stronger._

_I only wish I had the strength_

_to let it show."_

Finn pulled the mic off the stand and began walking about the stage, picturing Rachel all the while. He could see her on this very stage, standing as close as she could to the edge, pouring her heart out through song. He soon realized just how easy and natural it was to belt out a song onstage with nothing but a piano backing him up. Before he began singing, everything seemed intimidating: the stage, the lights, the incredibly large auditorium, Mr. Schuester. As he continued with the song, he found that the only things that mattered were the lyrics and the music…and Rachel; everything else was just background noise. As the music began to slow for the last verse, he came back to the mic stand, imagining Rachel in the audience wearing the same proud grin as she had the night before.

"_Even if I have to crawl _

_upon the floor,_

_come crashing through _

_your door, _

_Baby, I can't fight this_

_feeling anymore."_

He smiled as the last notes from the piano faded, shocked as hell that he'd thoroughly enjoyed performing on stage without a drum set surrounding him. The stage lights turned to black as the music ended in favor of the overhead lights that lit the entire auditorium; strangely, he found that he missed the ominous glare of the stage lights. _Was this how Rachel felt when she performed? Or is it just me?_ He wondered as Mr. Schue stood and began clapping fervently.

"Wow. Great job, Finn! I had no idea that you could do that," Mr. Schuester said, trying his hardest not to sound too surprised.

Finn laughed and shook his head.

"To be honest, Mr. Schue, I didn't either."

_Glee!_

As Finn walked down the halls of McKinley, his almost continuous thoughts of Rachel were invaded, yet again, by an unpleasant and impending task. After his audition yesterday, he went home and thought carefully about his feelings for both Rachel and Quinn; hours later, he finally came to the conclusion that he needed to end his relationship with Quinn. As much as it pained him, since he and Quinn got along well, he knew that his feelings toward her were nothing more than friendly. Likewise, he knew that his feelings for Rachel were anything but purely platonic.

While he woke up determined, he had continually put it off as the day wore on; finally, he resolved to do it before football practice started. Oddly enough, he hadn't seen Quinn all day and he idly wondered if she were even at school. Momentarily, he let himself grow hopeful that she was at home before quickly squelching that hope. _Her not being here today will only mean that you have to do it tomorrow or tonight. It's best to get it over with ASAP._ He thought, as he spotted Rachel clutching her books to her chest and standing, frozen, in front of the school bulletin board. His brow furrowed in confusion as he made his way to her; as he got closer, he realized that she was grinning broadly. He stopped behind her, glancing at the nape of her neck before focusing his gaze on the sign that had her full attention. It was a list depicting the new members of Glee Club. His eyes trailed down the list, only recognizing a few names; Kurt Hummel, the only openly Gay kid at McKinely, Mercedes Jones, an African American girl that always seemed to wear gold, Rachel Berry, and Finn Hudson. _Wait, what? Finn Hudson? But that...that's me! _Finn thought, completely shocked.

Rachel, somehow sensing his presence, turned to face him. She giggled quietly at the look on his face: his mouth shaped into a perfect oval, cheeks slightly flushed, brown eyes almost comically larger than normal, hand extended as though he had been about to grasp her arm…She giggled louder this time. _Wow. Even with that face he's hot. Rachel Barbara Berry, how in the world did you let yourself fall this fast? You have this obscenely tall boy hovering behind you with what most definitely could be the dorkiest expression on his face and all you can think about is how good looking he is? Berry's are tougher than that! _Even with her berating thoughts, she couldn't force the grin from her face. Finn, hearing her unmistakable laugh, tore his eyes from the sign only to let them fall a foot below it. He grinned.

"Hey. So, congrats. I knew you'd kill it," Finn said, flashing his crooked smile.

"Wha- I-Th-thank you. But I think your name on that list is much more shocking than mine," Rachel said, stumbling over her words at his nonchalance concerning his membership. She sighed, closing her eyes briefly. "Okay, that didn't come out how I intended. I meant that it was shocking since I had no idea you were trying out." She took her eyes off his face, irritated with herself for letting her nerves show.

Finn laughed as he placed his index finger under her chin to bring her face up so that it was leveled with his. She let her eyes flicker up to face.

"You really shouldn't look down so much. It makes it much harder for me to see your beautiful eyes…" he whispered, tilting his head to the side and looking into the dark brown orbs. _That's the point…_ Rachel thought as she bit the underside of her lip. He dropped his finger from her chin, smiling.

"I knew what you meant. I auditioned for Mr. Schue yesterday, but I honestly didn't think I'd make it in. I mean, I haven't had any vocal training, but I swear, Rach, it was _really _fun singing on stage like that."

"Really? That's great. You're a natural performer, then. Most people find the stage scary." She glanced at the list once more before turning to walk down the hall. Finn followed her. She glanced at him as he caught up with her. "So…What made you audition?" Rachel asked, curious. _You..._ Finn thought, but he shrugged instead, knowing that he couldn't express his feelings while he was still technically dating someone else.

"I dunno. You just made it seem so fun. And when I watched you on stage the other day, I could tell that you loved it. I thought, since I used to love playing the drums for people, I might love singing, too," Finn said, only giving her a partial answer.

Rachel grinned subtly as she absentmindedly tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She found that she was very much anticipating hearing him sing; especially since she knew that Mr. Schue let everyone that auditioned into the club.

"Sounds like a good reason." Rachel nodded as she stopped in front of her locker. "Well, congratulations. I hope we both enjoy it."

"Thanks. Me, too," Finn said, stopping next to her. "Listen, I gotta go. Football practice."

Rachel looked up at him as he used the hand that wasn't clutching his backpack to indicate the locker rooms down the hall. She nodded, polite smile on her face. Finn hesitated, shuffling his feet nervously; Rachel was beginning to regard this as his signature nervous behavior.

"I'll…uh…see you tomorrow, okay?" Finn said quietly, brushing her cheek swiftly with his index finger. "Bye, Rach," he mumbled before dropping his hand and rushing down the hall. _Damn heart with the fast beats. Damn stomach with the butterflies._ He shook his head before bypassing the locker room in search of Quinn.

Rachel's heart beat fiercely as she watched him walk away, her cheek blazing where he'd trailed his finger. She let out a long breath before blinking and turning back to her locker to grab her books.

Just as she was about to step back and shut her locker door, it suddenly slammed closed, missing her face by only centimeters. The loud _CLANG _echoed angrily around the empty hall, creating a deafening cacophony. As Rachel jumped back in fright and surprise, dropping her books as she did so, she came face to face with none other than Quinn Fabray, flanked by her cheerleader cronies: Santana Lopez and Brittany S. Pierce.

"Hey, Hobbit! Did I get ya?" she sneered, perfect face pulled into a chilling sneer. Rachel shook her head quickly, instinctively backing away and into the lockers behind her.

"Aww. Too bad," Quinn said, mock sincerity momentarily masking the sneer. "I was still hoping to make that fugly face of your less difficult to look at."

Rachel stood still, refusing to fuel the fire and give Quinn the satisfaction of knowing that her hateful words had stung.

"Okay, small talk over then. I've been seeing you with Finn an _awful_ lot lately and, no matter how I look at it, I can't seem to find any _real _reason why he should be spending that much time with you. After all, you're an ugly midget with no money, no talent, no fashion sense, and a nose that happens to be bigger than your face," Quinn said, looking her up and down with nothing but distaste. "I know you have this little school girl crush on him, but this pathetic little stalker thing you've got going on stops. Now." She came within two inches of Rachel's face as she vehemently whispered the last sentence. Rachel visibly flinched at her close proximity. Quinn continued on, for she couldn't care less about Rachel's comfort. Or lack thereof.

"He. Is. _Mine,_" she spat."_I_ am the head cheerleader and _he_ is the captain of the football team; which, roughly translated, means that we are, and always will be, a couple."

"L-look, we're just friends. I-I'm just helping him with Spanish," Rachel stumbled, trying incredibly hard to deter Quinn from continuing. She'd received the message. Quinn gave her a look of pure venom at the interruption. Fortunately for Rachel, she started where she left off, pretending that no interruption occurred.

"Obviously he has some sort of strange and freaky attachment to you at the moment, I'll acknowledge that much, but that does not mean that you can go gallivanting down the halls with _my _boyfriend. Quite clearly, he is a bit confused right now, which means, of course, that he has absolutely no idea how good he has it with me. Not to worry; he'll pay for his lengthy moment of insanity later. You might be incredibly naïve, but I know you're not entirely stupid. You know that's all this is; a brief bout of insanity brought on by stress from school, peers, and athletics. Think of it as the teenage version of a midlife crisis; a mid-adolescence crisis, if you will. Either way, he will soon realize his mistake and return to the world of the sane, which doesn't include a fucking ugly ass little bitch named Rachel Berry."

Rachel clenched her jaw together tightly, wanting to look anywhere but at the fierce hazel eyes of her enemy, but refusing to give in to the intimidation. She held her gaze, doing everything she could to not show how much Quinn's words were starting to effect her.

"I'll say it one more time, Hobbit. Stay away from Finn. If I catch you with him again, I swear to you that you will sincerely regret it," Quinn said as she backed away from Rachel.

Rachel, thinking that the confrontation was finally over, took a few steps away from the lockers and bent to pick up her fallen books. Suddenly, with no warning, she was slammed, _hard_, against the row of lockers behind her. Because of her previously bent position, she was lifted an inch or two off the tiled floor before hitting the metal of the lockers and tumbling to the ground.

"That's for fucking around with my boyfriend!" Quinn yelled. "This is only a warning. Next time it will be _much _worse!" Her voice rose as she added a kick to Rachel's stomach for good measure.

"QUINN!" An angry voice shouted from around the corner.

All three cheerleaders jumped as Finn came running into view. Quinn immediately backed away from Rachel's quivering and crumpled form.

"It's not what it looks like. She fell. I was just trying to help," Quinn said, hands behind her back in the classic guilty child pose.

"How? By fucking KICKING her? What the fuck is _wrong _with you?" Finn yelled as he bent down to lightly caress Rachel's tearstained cheek. He pushed her hair back gently, shocked to find her other cheek gashed and bloody. He began to help her up, coaxing her with soothing words whispered into her ear. He quickly realized that she was too afraid, dazed, or injured to move on her own. As he lifted her into a sitting position, he suddenly realized that Quinn was still speaking.

"Finn! Are you listening to me? We need to talk! Now! Leave the fugly hobbit on the floor if she doesn't want to get up!" she yelled at his bent back. He quickly brushed a tear off Rachel's cheek before standing and turning his furious gaze on Quinn.

"Shut up, Quinn! Just shut the fuck up! We don't need to fucking talk because we are over! Whatever the hell this was," he indicated to the two of them "it's through. We're done. Discussion over. Now, get the hell out of here. I don't want to see you anywhere near Rachel!"

She looked at him, hazel eyes blazing madly, as he knelt down on the floor next to Rachel once again.

"We are _not_ over. _I _decide when we're over. We're not, so come with me now so that we can talk or we're all going to be late for practice."

Finn completely ignored her as he gently lifted Rachel into his arms. He couldn't care less about Quinn as she began shamelessly screaming at his retreating back, her vehement voice bouncing frighteningly off the walls. Rachel clung to Finn as tightly as she could given her injuries as he rushed her to the nurse's office.

It was all a blur to Rachel as the school nurse hurriedly cleared a bed for Finn to place her on, the nurse frantically asking what happened while taking a visual inventory of her injuries. As much as her head hurt, Rachel couldn't let Finn tell the nurse that Quinn had been the culprit; with that fear in mind, she quickly spoke up.

"I-I tr-tripped. F-fell against the lockers," Rachel said as the nurse wrapped gauze around her cut and bleeding arm. "I tr-tried to staunch my f-fall by using my arm. It's r-really n-not as bad as it looks."

She looked at Finn's incredulous, about-to-protest face, and silently asked him not to say anything to the nurse. Hesitantly, he nodded in acquiescence, very clearly not happy about the agreement. The nurse cleaned Rachel's cheek and bandaged it before rushing to her desk to call Rachel's dads. Finn sat on the stool that the nurse had just vacated, trying and failing to look into Rachel's eyes.

"Rach. Look at me. Please." Finn lifted his hand to cup her uninjured cheek; he let it drop just as quickly, for Rachel had turned her head before he could. He stared at her, hurt by the blunt rejection. "Rach…"

"Will you leave, Finn? Please?" she asked, tears straining her voice.

"Why? I just- I wanna be here for you…"

"Just leave," Rachel said, tone more determined than before. "Please."

Finn stared at her turned face, hesitant, not knowing whether he should do as she asked or stay to take care of her. He tried again to look into her eyes, but was rebuffed a second time. He sighed sadly before standing and heading toward the door. He looked back at her and his heart broke as he watched silent tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. More than anything, he wanted to take her into his arms, kiss her head, and tell her that everything was going to be okay; he wanted to _make_ everything okay.

"Call me later. Please. I just want to know if you're okay."

His heartbroken whisper filled the room. Another tear slid down Rachel's cheek as he turned and left without another glance.

"_I can't decide if I'll let you save my life or if I'll drown…"_

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Again, sorry about the lengthiness. I hope you enjoyed reading! Thank you and don't forget to review! <em>

_Author's Note 2: I'm sure you all assume that I completely detest Quinn. Not true. I do like her when she's nice. Lol. No, but seriously. She's just the only plausible villian in this story.  
><em>


	3. Injured Solitude

_Author's Note: _Sorry for the incredibly lengthy delay. I just started college again and classes are keeping me insanely busy. So, without further to-do, I hope you like the chapter!

_Disclaimer: _Unfortunately, I do not own Glee or the lyrics from Christina Perri's song "Arms".

* * *

><p>"<em>The world is coming down on me<em>

_and I can't find_

_a reason to be loved._

_I never wanna leave you, _

_but I can't make you bleed_

_if I'm alone."_

I had never before been in a hospital bed; I had been far too careful as a child to necessitate anything more than a trip to my pediatrician's office. Apparently, though, that lack of previous experience meant nothing, for it didn't take my sense of sight to know that it was a hospital bed resting below me. The starchy sheets and rough clothing as well as the incessant beeping to my immediate left were hint enough. I felt the sharp chill of the overly air conditioned room reach everywhere but certain, random parts of my body; I wondered idly why that was. I tried to remember the actions that led me to the unmitigated cold and overwhelming smell of antiseptic, but found my mind too muddled to pinpoint the exact events.

Momentarily, I could only recall fear…and anger; so much anger that I know for a fact that it had not emanated from me. This confused me, since I could not figure out what I'd done recently to illicit such a response from a person. The rage engulfed me, forcing my temporarily forgotten memories to swirl about in a way that made it practically impossible to understand. The only image that my mind repeatedly returned to was Finn; Finn's face with the always sincere dark brown eyes and crooked smile. I silently cursed my weak memory, knowing in my heart that Finn wasn't to blame for this. My head began to pain in earnest as I used my collective energy and brain power to will myself to remember. Finn….School….Glee callbacks…Lockers…Quinn…Quinn? My eyes flickered erratically beneath my lids as it all came roaring back; Quinn's fury, my pain, Finn's rage, Finn's compassion, Finn's devastated expression when I made him leave me…The ache in my brain began to surge forcefully at the thought. I began to contemplate whether or not to open my eyes and demand medication when I heard shuffling and quick footsteps.

Despite the throbbing pain invading every inch of my skull, I kept my eyes shut as my dads' anxious and tearful voices floated into the room; it was obvious that the doctor had finally made an appearance. I let my internal thoughts about the day's events fade away in favor of the conversation being held in the hall. I listened, feigning sleep all the while, as the physician explained my injuries and laid out my expected recovery in extensive detail; I mentally sighed when the words "four weeks" were thrown about in the mix. I wanted so much to just curl into a ball and forget it all, but movement seemed to be out of the question if I wanted to remain elusive and not bring any more attention to myself. I began to tune out, all too ready to slip into the blackness where pain and recovery and the hurt look on Finn's face were just figments of my imagination. As my mind started to drift back into vast nothingness, I was rudely wrenched back to the present with one word: police.

"We can't press charges if she doesn't give us a name," my dad replied sadly to the doctor's suggestion to get the authorities involved.

"Roy…Honey, please. Rachel said it was an accident. When has she ever been one to lie to us?"

I swallowed guiltily. I was not comfortable listening to this conversation because he was right; I wasn't one to lie. In fact, I was brutally honest in most situations, for I have always believed that lying has too much potential to do more harm than good. Well, welcome to the world of hypocrisy, Rachel.

"I know we like to think the best of our children, Mr. Berry, but the fact is that Rachel's injuries are much more extensive than what could occur from tripping and falling into a locker," the doctor stated, his voice fading slightly as, presumably, he and my dads retreated down the hall. "Whoever did this to her is likely to do it again if the culprit is not turned in; this is especially true if this act of violence was committed by a student." I clenched my teeth together at his words, instantly wincing as the pressure caused another violent throb to resonate throughout my skull.

Well, you're wrong about that, Doctor. I don't need to turn anyone in to know that this will never happen again. She only demanded one thing of me as she rammed her sneaker clad foot into my crumpled body; and I fully intended to comply with her demands. Once I did, she would have no reason to hurt me like this again. Once I did, all of our lives, especially her's and Finn's, can go back to how they were before I'd interfered. I had crossed a line and she knew it; I knew it, too. I knew he was taken from the very beginning, yet I still allowed myself to make that potentially fatal error in judgment and fall for him. I couldn't very well turn Quinn in and let her take all the blame when I was aware of the situation all along; I was the tawdry "home-wrecker" in this situation. Her "warning" was nothing but an incredibly effective wake up call.

When I could no longer hear their voices, I sighed, aloud this time, before letting my eyes flicker open to take in the sight of my bedridden body.

Ten stitches, two bruised ribs, a fractured ankle, multiple contusions, and a moderate concussion. Today's total. Unless, of course, I had accrued more injuries between now and after I had drifted off from the copious morphine drip. From the look, and feel, of things, there were no new additions to my total. I reached up with my uninjured arm to lightly trace the neatly stitched laceration on my cheek. Immediately, I pictured the side of my face brutally slamming into my locker. I flinched, pulling my hand away as though it had been burned. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly to keep the sudden and unexpected tears at bay, clinging desperately to the bed sheets beneath me as I did so.

I was no stranger to pain; often times, it was my only companion. I have suffered through many things in my 15 years; I have endured taunts and forced solitude and unadulterated hatred and even the rare bit of violence, but this…true physical pain, hospital visits, stitches, crying dads…this was new. The fact that I had directly played a role in my getting here was new as well. I choked back an ashamed sob at the reality of my situation; not only am I to blame, but I am also forced to live with these horribly wonderful feelings for Finn that I have no right to have. I take several slow, deep breaths, waiting patiently for my muddy brown eyes to stop filling with tears. Just as the tide settles, my cell phone begins to dance quietly across the shiny white surface of my bedside table. My book bag lay open behind it, almost as though my phone had vibrated so much that it had slithered out of my bag.

I glanced idly at the small light emanating from the screen, sitting up slowly as I did so; I didn't have to read the name that flashed across it to figure out who was trying to contact me. Only four people had that number, myself included, and three were in this hospital. Still, as I gingerly reached over the metal railings of the hospital bed to grasp the small, brightly lit object, I hoped that it wasn't who I knew it was. At the same time, though, I couldn't help hoping that it _was_ him trying to contact me. _Stop it, Rachel, _I told myself. _You can't see him anymore. He's not yours to hope for. _

As I viewed my phone, two things shocked me: the time and the number of missed calls and messages. _Was it really 2:30 in the morning? Had I really been out for ten hours?_ I shook my head in disbelief as I opened my inbox. 53 text messages. All from Finn Hudson. I checked my call log as well. 10 missed calls. All from Finn Hudson. 5 voicemails. I could comfortably bet my soul that they were also from Finn Hudson.

I sighed as I dropped my phone in my lap, hating the fact that, despite knowing that I could no longer see him, my heart raced joyously at the thought of him repeatedly texting and dialing my number; at the thought of him worrying about me, those beautiful dark brown eyes of his flashing about in agitation. I could picture him pacing his bedroom floor, sneakers scuffing almost silently against the carpet, hand clutching his phone as though it were a life line. Then, remembering the time, I pictured him lying in bed, hands clasped together across his chest, phone in hand, worried eyes gently lit by the only tiny light streaming through his fingers.

I dropped my head in my hands, hating that I'd let it get this far; hating that I'd let myself fall this much and this fast. I bit my lip, forcing myself to keep the tears from sliding down my cheeks before swallowing and lifting the phone from my lap. With trembling fingers, I began to type a reply, my shaking hands making it extremely difficult to do so. Rest assured it has never taken me so long to text eleven short words.

_Please, Finn...I…We can't do this anymore. Just stop…please… _I pressed "send" before I could reconsider.

I contemplated reading all the messages he sent me, but, thinking it would be too hard, I decided against it; instead, I deleted all 53, as well as my call log.

Despite my best efforts, a lonely tear ran slowly down my cheek, leaving only a sad, wet trail in its wake. I gazed down at the slowly dimming device in my hands, hopelessly wishing that things were different. The tears began to well up beneath my eyelids as my phone buzzed. I considered refusing to read his message; it seemed, though, that my thumb had another thought in mind, for it pressed the "view" button before I had consciously made a decision. His words filled the screen in tiny black text; his voice resonating through my mind as I read the message.

_ Rach…Please don't do this…I'm sorry…I'm so damn sorry. For everything. I won't let her hurt you again, okay? I promise. You can trust me…_

The words blurred together as my eyes filled to the brim with tears. Not letting myself think about my decision, I quickly deleted his text and turned the phone off. I gently set it back on the nightstand before laying my head against the scratchy pillow. The long awaited tears began to flow steadily as I curled my body in as much as my injuries would allow, the pillow beneath my face slowly becoming soaked. I wrapped my arms around my knees, refusing to let my hand reach to grasp my phone, while repeatedly telling myself that saying goodbye is for the best.

_Glee!_

_( Finn's POV)_

2:32 – Last Text from Rachel.

2:33 – Last Text from Me to Rachel.

2:57 – No Response.

I sat on my bed, back against the headboard, legs bent in a way that makes it possible for me to comfortably rest my elbows on my knees, anxious hands clutching a small object that hadn't automatically lit in approximately 25 minutes. _Should I text her again? Maybe she didn't get that last text… _I decided that it wouldn't hurt to send another message.

3:02 – Text from Me to Rachel.

3:14 – No Response.

3:33 – Still No Response.

I sighed quietly, running my hand through my hair in frustration at the same time. I tapped my bare foot on the bedspread beneath me, a sure sign of my patience wearing thin. _Come on , Rach. Please…_I sent a silent plea before texting her once more.

3:47 – Text from Me to Rachel.

I waited a few moments before texting her again, selfishly figuring that she wouldn't be able to sleep if her phone continued to vibrate with each message. I was angry with myself for purposefully bothering her after the day she'd had, but I couldn't leave things the way she did with her last and only message.

3:50 – Text from Me to Rachel.

3:53 – Text from Me to Rachel.

3:55 – Text from Me to Rachel.

_Come on, Rach. You can't possibly sleep through that…_It suddenly occurred to me that she could have easily put her phone on silent or even shut it off. I wanted to immediately disregard the thought, but I knew that only a fair few possessed her number; therefore, it wouldn't be at all necessary for her to leave it on overnight. Before I could reason against it, I dialed her number and pressed the phone roughly to my ear. I waited for the seemingly imminent ring with bated breath. A quiet, strangled cry inadvertently slipped out of my open mouth as her voice reached my ear.

_"Hello, you've reached Rachel Berry's private mobile. If you think you've made an error in doing so, please hang up now. If not, please leave a short and detailed message with your contact information so that Miss Berry can return your call. Thank you and have a wonderful day." _

I pulled the phone from my ear as the irritatingly universal "beep" sounded. I stared down at it in shock as a colossal wave of sadness washed over me. After all the moments we'd had over the past few weeks, I couldn't believe that she would just write me off like that. My vision blurred as I stared unblinkingly at the phone in my hand. I thought about all those times when I wanted to hold her hand, hug her, kiss her, or even just touch her…Only to find that, no matter how much I wanted those things, I was still content just to set eyes on her. I thought about all of those moments that passed between us: the gazes, the grins, the feelings. I thought about her eyes and how they lit up whenever I looked into them. I thought about her smile and how it could so easily make a person feel like their world is, and will always be, all right.

Despite the powerful fist holding my heart in a painful vice-like grip, I couldn't help but feeling comforted, reassured, and happy at the memory of that smile. A small grin pulled at my downturned lips; almost immediately, though, the smile turned into a tight lipped grimace as I thought about how very quickly Quinn had extinguished that light in her eyes and forced that glorious smile into one of absolute pain. I closed my eyes tightly as anger, hatred even, surged through me; hatred toward Quinn for hurting Rachel, but, most of all, hatred toward _myself_ for putting them both in that situation. I was dating Quinn; true, we didn't see much of each other in or outside of school, but I was dating her all the same. I had no right to explore my feelings for Rachel while doing so. I'd selfishly kept Quinn on my arm for whatever reason while sorting out those feelings; I'd used her. I'd known from the moment that Rachel and my hands touched in the hallway after English that she was the girl that I wanted to spend my days with; it only took that electrifying spark when our fingers met to make me feel more for her than I'd ever felt for Quinn. Hell, who am I kidding? It only took the meeting of our gazes to make me feel more than I'd ever felt looking into Quinn's blue eyes.

I clenched my hand tightly around my phone as the fury bubbled ferociously within me; it took only seconds for it to boil over and, before I could even think, I threw my phone across the room. I couldn't even bring myself to care that it was almost 4:30 in the morning, that my mother was asleep down the hall, or that the sound of the cymbal reverberating throughout the room was probably caused by shattered pieces of my phone crashing against it; I couldn't bring myself to care about anything as the angry tears welled up in my eyes before I forcefully buried my face into my pillow. The fact that it was the very same pillow that Rachel had used to prop her elbow on just the other night during our study session was not lost on me. I pounded the pillow beneath me when her perfume reached my nostrils, but I kept my face where it was; it was the perfect kind of torture; torture that I most definitely deserved.

Because I couldn't yell to release the feelings caused by my thoughtless actions and the hellish battle waging within, I let the threatening tears spill onto my pillow; as each tear escaped and landed on the fluffy, Rachel-smelling object, I struck it hard with my fist. Each time I sunk my fist into the pillow, I thought of a new word or phrase to describe myself: idiot, moron, dumbass, selfish son of a bitch, jerk, pain causing dipshit, ignorant fool…Despite literally beating my pillow and mentally berating myself, I was still so angry; I was so angry, in fact, that all I felt like doing was beating myself up, and not at all in the figurative sense. _Why the hell should Rachel have to be in the hospital when I was the one that caused all this? Why couldn't Quinn have taken it out on me? The person that actually deserved it? Why did I have to be so damn stupid?_ My thoughts were running wild; all the "what ifs" and the "maybes" and the "should have beens" were giving me the world's worst headache. Of course, the crying and the pounding of my fist an inch from my head probably weren't helping either.

Considering the ruckus I was making, it should not have been surprising that I'd awoken my mom, but I still visibly started when I felt a hand rest softly on my arm, forcing me to stop moving. It was only then, with the aching pain traveling up and down my arm, that I realized how long I must have been pulverizing my pillow. I closed my eyes tightly, burying my face deeper into the once inviting object beneath me as I went; even though she knew something was wrong, I didn't want her to see the tears on my face.

"Finn…? What's going on, hon?" Her voice was gentle, quiet.

"Nothing, Mom…Sorry for waking you up…" I whispered, voice sad and muffled.

"Losing sleep is the least of my worries right now. What happened?"

She brought her hand up to push my hair back; it was only then that I noticed the pool of sweat on my brow. I wasn't sure if it was caused more by my previous movement or from the situation itself. _Probably a combination of both, _I thought. I turned my head to the side, away from her, before answering.

"Nothing…I-…" I trailed off, knowing that my voice would break if I continued; knowing that _I_ would break if I continued. She stopped stroking my hair only to let her hand rest on my back.

"Finn…you can tell me, sweetie."

"I just…I messed up, Mom…" Despite my best efforts, my voice cracked like I was 13 and going through puberty again. I could feel her hand stiffen on my back. I heard her sigh softly.

"Did you get a girl pregnant, honey?" she whispered.

"What? Mom, no!" I was so shocked at this conclusion that I actually sat up to face her, forgetting that I didn't want her to see that I was crying. While I could see that she was relieved to hear me say that, I could also tell that seeing my tear stained cheeks and wet pillow worried her to a larger degree; after all, she hadn't seen me cry since I was 10 and had broken my arm during football practice. She gazed at me questioningly. I sat with my back against the headboard, knees bent, elbows resting against them, before bowing my head sadly.

"I really messed up with Rachel…I ruined everything," I whispered.

"Oh, Finn…I'm sure that's not true," she said as she grasped my arm in a reassuring gesture.

"I…I think I love her, but I really screwed up." I knew I loved her, but that was as close as I could come to admitting it to my mother.

"Oh, Honey, whatever you said or did…you can make it up to her. Just show her how much you care and tell her how sorry you are. If you really try, you can make things better."

"That's just it, though, Mom. It might be that the only thing I can do to make it better for her is to stay away from her…" Tears slowly began to pool behind my eyelids as the truth of my spoken words finally washed over me. _That was it, wasn't it? The only way to make all of this right was to stop it all entirely. If I'd never come into the picture, Rachel never would have gotten hurt…if I stay away from her now, Quinn will have no reason to hurt her ever again. _I closed my eyes and let my head rest against the wall above the headboard in defeat.

"I'm not good for her…"

Truer words have never been spoken.

_Glee!_

_(Finn's POV)_

It wasn't a good day. My lack of sleep ensured that much; this was saying something considering that the state of my day was the only thing I _was _sure about. I hadn't managed to sleep at all. I'd lain in bed, staring up at the ceiling, for hours before throwing on a dirty T-shirt and a pair of jeans from my floor and leaving the house. It took three trips to and from the hospital for me to force myself to finally head to school; I'd gotten as far as the automatic sliding glass doors of the ER on the last trek. It took every ounce of my willpower to turn around and walk away from those doors; to walk away from her. Because of my many detours, I came upon the ominous front doors of McKinley High with only five minutes to spare before the start of class.

As I made my way down the hall to my locker, I couldn't help but notice just how _normal _everything and everyone appeared to be. _How was it possible that the world was still the same when my world has been completely turned upside down? How can they not care that the most amazing person that I've ever known is currently residing in a hospital bed?_ I pulled my books out of my locker, only now realizing that I hadn't taken them home yesterday to do the assigned work due today. I sighed as I unsuccessfully tried to shove them haphazardly into my messy backpack. I stuck my arm in to move the mess about to make room for my books; a stack of cards brushed roughly against the back of my hand. I pulled the neat, rubber band wrapped stack out and let it rest in my upturned palm. Flash cards; _Rachel's _flashcards. I gazed at the word written in her handwriting: _escuchar. _I knew that one; to listen. We'd conjugated it together in my bedroom; I could hear her voice now, repeating the word and its meaning. She'd leaned toward me to look over my paper, her hair falling forward and resting on my shoulder as she went; my breath mercilessly caught when her fingers brushed against mine to show me my mistake.

I closed my hand around the cards for a few moments before setting them in my locker.

"Listen, Finn. We have to talk."

_Listen…Somehow that word has even less meaning now than it ever has…Especially coming out of her mouth._

I shut my locker door softly before turning to look into Quinn's cold blue eyes. She stood in her Cheerios uniform, arms akimbo, white sneakered foot jutted out and tapping the tile beneath it, pissed beyond words. I hooked my backpack onto my shoulder before running a hand through my hair, tired as all hell, in every sense of the word. As much as I wanted her to hurt in any way for what she did to Rachel, I knew that I was much more to blame. With that in mind, I opened with an apology as opposed to retribution.

"I'm sorry, Quinn." Her anger faded and shock momentarily crossed her face before almost immediately molding into that of approval. "I'm sorry that I continued to go out with you when I knew that I had feelings for someone else. I'm sorry for using you like that; you didn't deserve it."

She was back on anger.

"I'm sorry. Could you repeat that? I'm so incredibly sure that I misunderstood you." Her tone was one of exaggerated patience laced with rage. I sighed, sick of her games.

"No, Quinn. You didn't misunderstand me. I apologized for using you because that wasn't right, but what you did to Rachel wasn't right, either." I whispered the last part, remembering Rachel's silent, pleading face in the nurse's office. "The only reason you haven't been expelled is because Rachel isn't turning you in. I guarantee you that you wouldn't be here had she already done so."

"Look, I don't care about your little tryst with the Hobbit, okay? I don't know what happened and I don't want to know. The point is that I forgive you. This means that we can go on like nothing's changed because, really, nothing has. You're still the Quarterback and I'm still Captain of the Cheerios; we can still do the right thing and be together. Nothing else matters now." Quinn reached out to grasp my hand in hers. I subtly moved it out of her reach.

"_Everything _has changed, Quinn. _Everything._ You put someone in the hospital. _You _put someone in the _hospital _and you couldn't care less_._ I can't be with someone who purposefully did that; especially someone who has no remorse whatsoever after doing so. I don't know what we had here, but it's over now." I swallowed before continuing. "Just be happy that you're still able to go back to being a Cheerio and rule the school as a sophomore because you know that if things were truly right, you wouldn't be able to go back to that. You were at the head of this school long before we started going out, so you definitely don't need me to continue that. So, I think that, for now, the best thing for all of us is to just…stay away from each other."

I forced a fake half smile before turning and making my way down the hall. I didn't even look at her face before leaving; I'd said what needed to be said. That was only the second time since I've known her that I've gotten the last word in an argument; yesterday, after taking Rachel into my arms, was the first time.

As I walked into first period and sat down in my assigned seat, I thought about Rachel. I wondered how she was doing, if she was out of the hospital, when she would be back at school…I couldn't concentrate on the lesson. Hell, I couldn't even remember what class I was in. I wondered when, if ever, I'd be able to go through the day without thinking of her, without wanting to be with her. _Do people ever really get over their first love? _Something, maybe instinct, whispered a resounding "no". _Maybe if I force myself to think of everything _but _her…Football…Good…That's working...Football has been around for as long as I can remember. Ten years old as a Lima Lion…Yep. Still have that picture in my room. That very same picture that Rachel gazed at after trailing a finger down my drum cymbal…Wait, damn it! Okay, fine, English. That's it. I'm in English class. The very same English class that Rachel left her diary in and I ran out to give it to her…Fuck. _

Today was going to be a long day.

_Glee!_

_(Rachel's POV)_

Limp, limp. Hop, hop.

"Ow! Damn it!" I cursed as I accidentally banged my ankle against the large, off-white trashcan just inside the bathroom. The door closed behind me as I entered the room.

I sighed before leaning, exhausted, against the light brown door five feet from the toilet. I couldn't believe that I, Rachel Berry, the girl who can spend hours on an elliptical and only gain a light sheen of sweat, needed to rest after hopping only ten feet.

"Rachel, Honey, will you let me help? Please?" The door vibrated beneath me as my dad knocked softly.

"No, Dad, it's okay. I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute." I tried unsuccessfully to speak without taking a breath in between sentences.

I listened to the nervous shuffle of his feet just beyond the two inches of wood that my back rested against. _Has he always done that? Or am I only noticing now because Finn does it? _Did_ it…._I correct myself. _You're no longer friends… _I sighed again, more out of grief than frustration. I had yet to turn my phone back on after my text to him last night. I didn't know what I was more afraid of: a bunch of messages or no messages at all. I thought about him at school, sitting in class and selfishly wondered if he was thinking about me or wishing I were there. Despite my best efforts, I still wished more than anything that he were here with me, holding my hand and saying his unmistakable "Finn" things…I huffed, frustrated by my longing and newly apparent cowardice. I shook my head in disbelief before hopping over to the sink. As I clutched the white porcelain square seemingly suspended in midair, I gazed into sad, murky brown eyes surrounded by a pallid, moping face. _Unbelievable. UnFREAKINGbelievable. Since when is Rachel Berry not aware of her facial expressions? Have I looked like this in front of my dads? No wonder they're so worried…_I lifted my lips slightly, trying to achieve a smirk rather than a frown; I quickly found this expression to be almost impossible to hold. _Finn Hudson…what have you done to me?_

I splashed some cold water on my face, trying in vain to rid it of this never before seen mask of utter despair. I clenched my teeth tightly as I glared at my reflection. _Okay, Rachel. Stop this. No death has occurred, which means that you have no right to such an expression. You have gotten through so much; you can get through losing him, as well. Especially considering that he was never yours to lose in the first place…_My face inadvertently twisted into one of pain at this notion. Clearly, it would take more than a few peptalks to get through this. I let my eyelids flicker shut; my face disappeared from view. I turned away from the mirror without opening my eyes, not wanting to catch another glimpse of that weak, un-Rachel-like face. As angry as I was at myself, I could only entertain one thought as I hopped away: _How can I already miss him so much?_ I honestly didn't know. Maybe this was what it was like to really be heartbroken; funny, I'd always thought it wasn't possible.

"_I never wanna leave you,_

_but I can't make you_

_bleed if I'm alone."_

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><p>I hope you liked it! Please, please review! It's the only way I can get better.<p> 


	4. Never Let Me Go

_Author's Note: _I could comment on how it has been over a year since I updated this, but I won't because that's pretty inexcusable. Sorry about that. (She says bashfully.) Here it is: The final chapter. Enjoy!

_Disclaimer: _As always, I own naught but the plot. Rhyme time.

* * *

><p>"<em>I hope that you see right through my walls<br>I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling  
>I'll never let a love get so close<br>You put your arms around me and I'm home"_

My hand tightened reflexively over my side as each forced, labored breath caused an intense pain to shoot angrily through my chest. Cursing silently, I glared at the ten feet of hallway that may as well have been ten miles that I had left to hobble down before finally reaching the stairs that led into the living room. With the majority of my weight leaning dependently on the one crutch I was able to use, I slowly made my way down the hall, keeping any noise to a bare minimum in a relatively vain hope to make it out of my bedroom unassisted. I knew I was being ridiculous; that I had everything that I could possibly need in my room; that either of my dads would be more than willing to help tow me around the house, but I just couldn't take the constant hovering any longer; I couldn't take the hovering and the confining four walls of my bedroom were continually pressing in on me as the days wore on. Lying in bed for eight days straight with nothing but the bathroom as any form of reprieve was literally pushing me closer and closer to insanity. Not even the comforting sounds of _Funny Girl _could take my mind off the teenaged horror film disguised as my life playing over and over like a never-ending reel of tape. For days, it's been playing with no interruptions; Finn, of course, is the most recurring star with special appearances by Quinn, Brittany, Satan – Santana, I mean – and my dads. It plays not only in my waking moments, but also in my dreams; not a night has gone by where I haven't been plagued with the slamming of locker doors, the deafening taunts of vicious cheerleaders, and a pair of devastated chocolate brown eyes gazing down at me.

"Shit!" I cursed as I missed the last step at the bottom of the stairs and went tumbling, not at all artfully, I might add, into the living room. Both of my dads rushed toward me, faces glazed with worry, no doubt, as my eyes involuntarily shut and my face scrunched up in pain. My dad had me up and in his arms before I could take a full breath.

"Rachel! Are you okay? What are you doing out of bed?" my daddy asked.

My dad set me down on the couch gently; both hovered frantically over my still form, trying and failing to assess any damage without actually touching me. I held up my hand, palm facing them both in a "Stop, I'm fine" fashion, before taking a deep breath. My ribs stung and my ankle throbbed, but the pain was no worse than it had been all last week. It looked like my tumbling lessons from toddler gymnastics had stuck with me all these years.

I gazed into the worried eyes of my parents and suddenly became overcome with a fit of giggles. My dads exchanged shocked glances that clearly questioned my sanity, causing my girlish giggles to morph into hysterical laughter. Each fit caused a ripple of fire to creep through my ribcage and I bent over on the couch, holding my side all the while. It wasn't the overly concerned gazes of my parents or the ludicrous fact that I'd made it all the way down the stairs and fell on the very last step; no, the laughter emanating from within was directly caused by the ridiculousness of my entire predicament; it stemmed from all the incomprehensibly awful decisions that I'd made today, yesterday, last week, my whole life. I laughed because, as hard as I thought I'd tried to become anything but, I was the model teenager making mistake after mistake and learning nothing but how to be more and more indecently stubborn. After all, here I was being taken care of by my two loving, concerned fathers and I stupidly, stubbornly, arrogantly attempt to make my way downstairs without asking for help; in doing so, I could have seriously injured myself and taken another tear-filled – on my dads' parts – trip to the hospital. I laughed harder, realizing that I had much more in common with Quinn than I'd originally thought. _Selfish teens, unite! – when it's most convenient for you, of course!_

Despite the calming murmurs of my dads, it was the sight of a pink cell phone – _my _cell phone – clutched in one of their hands that wrenched me out of La La Land.

"Is that my phone?" I asked, sitting up and reaching toward it. My dad gently moved it out of my reach, but held it aloft in his open palm, showing me that it was, in fact, my phone.

Being the selfish, stubborn teen that I was, the first words out of my mouth were "Why do you have my cell phone?" in the most accusatory tone I could muster; never mind the fact that I'd clearly lied about how I'd ended up in such a condition that kept me from successfully walking down the stairs a mere week prior or the fact that my lie was obviously that – a lie. Or the fact that my parents were just being parents and were frightened for their daughter. Oh, no, selfish and stubborn teens immediately jump to how their right to privacy was being violated.

In answer to my question, my dad pressed a few quick buttons on my cell and the voice flitting from it – concerned, scared – left me staggering.

_"Rach…I'm so sorry. This is all my fault; everything's my fault. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I didn't think – _His voice broke off, choked; a deep, shuttering breath –_ I'm sorry…so damn sorry. Please…just let me know if you're okay. I know I don't deserve to hear from you ever again, but…please…" _

My dad skipped to the next message before the automated voicemail operator could ask what I'd wanted to do with the first message. I hadn't deleted his messages, but I hadn't listened to them either. Another stupid mistake.

_"Rach…It's been three hours…please, a text message. That's all I'm asking for…Please. I know you hate me, and you have every right to, and I'll feel guilty whether or not you contact me, okay? I'll still hate myself for what I did to – _

I interrupted, shocked to feel tears streaming down my face, "Okay! I've heard enough! Turn it off! Please…" Just the sound of his voice, pain dripping in every word, fear rising with each decibel, had shaken me to my very core. My broken body trembled as I replayed the words over in my mind and coupled them with the already ever-playing horror film. If I'd thought that that look he'd given me when I told him to leave me in the nurse's office was painful, these messages were downright devastating. He sounded so broken, so hurt, so _guilty_; I instantly hated myself.

"Finn did this to you," my dad stated in a tone as sure as the sunset. It took me a moment to get out of my own head long enough to understand what he meant. I broke the words up individually: _Finn. Did. This. To. You. _My brows furrowed confusedly before comprehension suddenly dawned. _They thought _Finn_ beat me! _Finn_! _My_ Finn with the nervous, shuffling feet; _my_ Finn with the half-crooked smile; _my _Finn with the kind eyes and the ever-present habit of ducking his head in the hopes of catching my eyes with his…Quinn's Finn…_

My breaths became gasps as I thought of what this meant; of how much trouble Finn would be in for merely associating with me. I had to protect him. _They won't believe me; I'm a liar. It really does come full circle. You have to try! _I put a halt on my debating mind, realizing that my continued silence indicated agreement. I spoke in a clear, confident, completely truth-filled voice.

"No. Finn didn't do this. I swear, Dad. Finn had _nothing _to do with this." Both parents stared down at me, disbelief etched ever so carefully across their features. My dad glanced at my phone and I realized then just how incriminating Finn's messages sounded. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why couldn't you have made _one _good decision and _deleted _those? _

I took a deep breath and whispered, terrified, "I know all that sounds bad, but I _promise _you: Finn didn't do this to me. He just…" I stopped, not sure what to say, since I couldn't tell them the whole truth. "He…he blames himself…for…not being there to stop it."

"So you're finally admitting that what happened wasn't an accident?" my daddy asked.

"No! It _was_ an accident! I fell, just like I told you last week. Finn was the one who found me and took me to the nurse's office. He feels guilty because he was…late in meeting me…after class. He thinks that if he hadn't been late, then he would have been able to keep me from falling…" I finished, cheeks flaming, tears flowing, the lies piling atop one another and becoming as unstable as a Jenga tower.

My dad shook his head slowly and tossed my phone on the couch beside me before walking out of the living room, a sad sigh passing his lips. Daddy searched my eyes, worry flowing steadfastly from his own, before cupping my uninjured cheek lightly.

"We can't help unless you tell us what really happened…"

"Finn didn't do this," I whispered, begging him to see that.

He nodded, a sigh so similar to that of my dad's escaping his lips as he left the room. I gazed down at my still trembling hands, tears trailing like peaceful streams down my cheeks.

_Mistake after mistake…_

_Glee!_

_(Finn's POV)_

_4 Weeks Later_

I sat in the passenger seat of my mom's old Honda, backpack at my feet, chin in hand, gaze fixed pointedly out the window and on the gloomy, gray sky blanketing Lima. The car ride was uncharacteristically quiet, save for the occasional engine grind and almost imperceptible sigh emitted from my mother. Her gaze periodically flitted onto my still form, resulting in her eyes resting more on the side of my face than on the road ahead of us. I kept my head turned, finding it easier to watch the numerous houses rush past rather than meeting her concerned stare. She was worried about me; worried because I've changed; worried because I'm not the Finn Hudson I used to be.

The old Finn Hudson used to come home after practice, sit down at the kitchen table with a cold bottle of water, and talk to his mom about his day; afterwards, he would proceed up to his messy, teenage cave, turn on his Xbox, and play games until dinner was ready. For the old Finn Hudson, homework was done, if at all, after dinner and amid the educational sounds of The Simpsons, Friends, and The Office. He'd spend the weekends over at friends' houses or over at his Grandparents' house with his mom. The old Finn Hudson was carefree, talkative…young.

The new Finn Hudson goes to school every day, begins his homework during lunch (unless there is a glee meeting), goes to practice and glee rehearsal, and comes home, where he immediately goes up to his clean bedroom to finish his homework. The new Finn Hudson helps his mother with dinner and does more than his usual chores; he doesn't play Xbox or go out with his friends. The new Finn Hudson goes through the motions; he does everything expected of a teenage boy, nothing more. This new Finn Hudson arrived over a month ago and has taken up residence indefinitely.

This new Finn Hudson scared the hell out of her.

He scared the hell out of me, too.

The car stopped in front of McKinley High's steps with a loud screech. I blinked, momentarily remembering that I'd promised to fix the brakes weeks ago, before grasping my backpack with one hand and the door handle with the other.

"Finn…" Her slender hand gently gripped my arm.

"Yeah, Mom…?" I turned slightly, still not meeting her gaze for fear of what she'd see in my eyes rather than what I'd see in hers.

"Have a good day," she whispered before letting her hand drop.

"You, too," I said before getting out of the car and walking, head down, toward the front doors of McKinley High.

I hated making her sad, making her worry, but, no matter how hard I try, I can't act normal when the world around me is anything but.

_Glee!_

_(Rachel POV)_

I lay on my back, my arm thrown haphazardly over my eyes, white paper crinkling loudly beneath me as the doctor poked and prodded me into a painful oblivion. I winced theatrically as he pressed gently on my ribcage. I was overdoing it, I knew, but it had been over a month since I had been onstage and I craved the escape that only theater could bring; the escape that just might be able to dull the constant ache that kept his tortured gaze swimming in and out of my mind at all hours. My daddy reached out and grasped my hand as the doctor finished the examination.

"Sorry about that," the doctor said, rather cheerfully, before pulling my shirt down and stripping off his gloves.

"Well, it seems like your ribs are still a bit sore, but I'd say that you're just about healed. It looks to me like you'll be able to go back to school next week, but there's no rush if you still don't feel up to it. If you do go back, I recommend no physical education for at least two weeks; I'll write you a note. After that, you should be able to go back to your usual routine. If you're still feeling any pain in the next few weeks, please come back for another appointment," the doctor smiled, wrote a quick note excusing me from P.E., and handed it to my dad.

"So, her ankle is fine, then? She says she still feels pain on occasion," my daddy murmured anxiously, still grasping my hand in his.

He'd been extremely protective of me since the "accident". I knew this was because I had failed in convincing them that my injuries had been caused by a fall of my own accord rather than a beating of someone else's. My recent melancholy attitude toward everyday life probably fueled this reaction, but, try as I might, I still can't keep my face from crumbling when the pain gets too overwhelming. It's like getting stabbed over and over again and trying to hold in the screams. Sometimes, you can't help but let a scream pass your lips.

I bit my lip, casting my damp, muddy brown eyes to the ground as everything Finn suddenly enveloped my senses; the bright light in his eyes, his always messy hair, the scent of his cologne, his tall, awkward form…I closed my eyes to keep my dads from seeing the tears welling up as they continued to speak with the doctor. I took a deep breath and tried to distract myself by listening to their conversation.

"So, you're absolutely _sure_ she's ready to go back to school? Wouldn't it be better if we just…home school her for the rest of the year?" My dad glanced sideways at me when he mentioned this.

_Home school? Do I really want to be homeschooled?_ I thought about spending my days in my bedroom, repeatedly watching "Funny Girl", and having nothing whatsoever to distract me from the pain of losing Finn. Basically living exactly how I have been for the past month. At this thought, I immediately began shaking my head.

"Dad, I'm fine. You said that I was fine, didn't you?" I asked the doctor pointedly.

"From a medical standpoint, home schooling isn't necessary," he agreed.

"See? I don't need home schooling."

"Well, we'll talk about it, honey. Thank you, Doctor," my dad said before helping me off the table and gently ushering me out into the hall.

I held back, purposefully walking at a slower pace to gain some distance between us as my parents began animatedly whispering to each other about home school and McKinley.

_I'm not going to be homeschooled, _I thought. _I'm going back to McKinley. Next week. _As I determinedly said it in my head, I began to fully realize what that entailed. I would be seeing Finn on a daily basis. I would be seeing Finn with _Quinn_ on a daily basis. I would go back to being the loser that got slushied everyday, but it would be worse because I would never again see Finn as just the popular jock that I've never spoken to. I'd be seeing him as the sweet guy who returned my journal without reading it; as the adorable sophomore who shuffles his feet when he's nervous; as the tall kid who makes my heart stop when he touches my face; as the first boy that I've ever fallen in love with…Was going back just another mistake I can add to my tally?

Suddenly, home school didn't sound all that bad.

_Glee!_

_(Finn's POV)_

I clutched the edge of my red, food laden tray to my chest as I skirted around all the jocks and cheerleaders taking up the bulk of the lunch tables in the cafeteria. As I headed, head hung low, to the empty table in the back, I spotted Quinn Fabray huddled inconspicuously at a table with Lauren Zizes, Jacob Ben Israel, and Suzy Pepper. I glanced at her as I sat, taking in her sad, downcast eyes and crumpled, defeated form and I couldn't help but feel bad for her, despite her deserving actions. Just as I was thinking this, her former friends Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce walked up to her table, hands perched haughtily on their hips.

"You know, you should really watch your diet. Fried foods aren't really good for the fetus…or your figure!" Santana said scathingly.

As both girls burst out laughing, David Karofsky rushed up behind them and forcefully thrust a large grape slushie in Quinn's face, spattering the entire table in purple, icy gunk as it ricocheted off her. Instinctively, I stood to defend her, but I was beaten to the punch as Noah Puckerman burst into the cafeteria.

"Hey, Jackass!" he yelled. "Knock that shit off or I'm gonna let you know what it feels like to have one of those shoved up your ass!"

He angrily pushed passed the crowd that had gathered, not even batting an eyelash when Karofsky's teammates jumped up threateningly at Puck's words.

"And I don't give a fuck about your moronic hockey pals. I _shit_ bigger things than them every morning," he called as he wiped the purple mush out of Quinn's eyes and helped her up.

"And you know what, Santana? I wouldn't be talking. I saw you plow down all those hot dogs at Mason's party last week. Looks like that ass is getting a little bit too big for that uniform, huh?" he threw over his shoulder as he led Quinn toward the cafeteria doors.

"Oh, shut up, Puckerman! Have fun raising the has-been's baby!" Santana shouted at their retreating backs.

I shook my head in disgust, no longer interested in eating; the cafeteria noise rose to a normal level as the double doors slammed shut. I waited a few minutes before grabbing my backpack, figuring I could head to the library to get some work done, and exiting through the same doors. As much as I despised the blatant acts of hatred and discrimination occurring at her expense, Quinn and I were far from being friends or even to being on talking terms; especially after she tried to convince me that I'd knocked her up via hot tub. I mean, come on, I know I'm not the brightest crayon in the box, but even I know that that's not possible. Trust me, I googled it. And my once strong friendship with Puck was definitely on the rocks after I found out that he'd slept with my (now ex-) girlfriend. The only reason I'm still sort of speaking to him was because I was kind of preoccupied with Rachel when all that stuff happened.

Deciding to stop by my locker to get my Spanish book, I took a detour that incidentally led me passed the teachers' break room. As I made my way down the hallway, I heard Mr. Schue's voice coming through the crack in the open door. I stopped just outside, back pressed against the wall so I wouldn't be seen.

"Figgins said that her dads are seriously considering not letting her return to McKinley. I'd have never pegged her for a home schooled student. It's a shame, though. She's got an amazing voice."

"I know, but you can't really blame them. I shudder to think that the person who attacked her is still walking about the hallways. If only she'd reveal the perpetrator…Things would be much easier for her," Miss Pillsbury, the school counselor, murmured.

"She's got to be too scared to come forward. Rachel Berry may have a big personality, but she's a pretty tiny kid. Besides, it'd just be her word against theirs," the Sophomore AP English teacher said.

"As much as I'd like her back at school, realistically, it'd be better for her if she stayed away. This school is just way too lax when it comes to bullying. And every time I bring it up with Figgins, he says that we don't have the money or the resources to spare to increase security here," Mr. Schue said sadly.

I stiffened as the sounds of chairs scraping the floor and wrappers being gathered reached my ears. Upon hearing footsteps, I ran down the hall and turned the corner just before the door was pulled open and Mr. Schue and Miss Pillsbury stepped out of the break room. I pressed my back against the wall behind me as I went over the conversation that I'd just overheard in my head. _Rachel never coming back to McKinley?_ My heart thudded painfully in my chest at the thought. _If she doesn't come back, I'll never see her again…_I slowly slid down the wall as this realization struck me. I knew she didn't want to be with me, but I'd been secretly holding on to the hope that that would be easier to accept if I went back to just being able to see her face every day. It's been almost five weeks and I haven't seen her anywhere; not even at a grocery store. I sighed before dropping my face in my hands. _She has to come back…She has to…Right?_

"Dude. You all right?"

I jumped as Puck's voice filled the silent hallway. I'd been so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn't even heard footsteps.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine," I said, standing swiftly.

He looked at me, scrutinizing my face, disbelief etched on his.

"She's okay, you know," he muttered, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Who…?" My eyebrows narrowed in confusion.

"You know who. I mean, I know you haven't talked to her or anything, but she looks okay," he shrugged awkwardly.

"Wait…Rachel? You've seen Rachel?" I asked, finally understanding.

"Yeah. Last week. At Synagogue."

"Did you talk to her? Does she know about Quinn?" I asked, anxious yet so glad to hear that she's all right.

"No, man. Why would I say anything about Quinn? And she only asked me not to tell you that I'd seen her, but you look so down that I kinda felt I owed you..." he trailed off guiltily. "But, what's Quinn gotta do with anything? Rachel doesn't know you guys broke up?"

I shook my head numbly, not really listening or answering his questions, just thinking about Rachel and how Puck had gotten to see her…and how I probably never would again unless I did something about it. I shook my head incredulously. _Of course!_

"Where is she?" I asked, a plan forming in my head.

"Man, I don't know. Haven't you been listening? I saw her last week, not today," Puck said, giving me a look that clearly questioned my sanity.

"No, dude! Quinn! Where's Quinn?"

"Oh. She decided to go home. She's waiting in front of the school for her mom."

I took off down the corridor and toward the front of the school, his bewildered voice trailing after me. I had a plan, but I didn't think it'd work without Quinn. Sneakers squeaking, backpack clutched tightly to my shoulder, I burst through the front double doors. Blinking rapidly to accommodate the bright light outside, I spotted Quinn walking toward her mother's car.

"Quinn! Wait!" I yelled, running quickly down the steps. "Can I talk to you for a sec? Please?"

She stopped, gestured to her mom to wait a moment, and turned to face me. I looked at her closely, her wet hair thrown into a messy bun, her still damp shirt sticking to her shoulders, and hesitated. _She looks a wreck. This is definitely not the Quinn Fabray who beat the hell out of a girl because she was jealous…I can't ask her to help fix the mess I'm in when she can't even help herself right now. _

"What do you need, Finn?" she asked, eyebrow quirked. "I know I was a shitty girlfriend, but I learned to read your face pretty well," she murmured, hand absentmindedly running over her still pretty flat stomach.

"Never mind. Really. You've got enough going on."

"No. It's okay. Honestly, you have no idea how hard it is for me to see you like this every day and not be able to help. The guilt is so overwhelming. You're such a great guy and I messed everything up for you and Rachel…And you both protected me even though I didn't deserve it. Really, if you let me help, I promise you that you'll be doing me a much bigger favor than I'll be doing for you."

I looked her in the eye, not sure if I should believe her or not. She cocked her head to the side, arms akimbo, and I could almost see her back in her Cheerios uniform. I grinned at her bossy expression, reminded suddenly of Rachel. That thought had me leaning in and telling her all about the plan.

_Glee!_

_(Quinn's POV)_

My fingers hovered idly over the radio dial, twirling it back and forth as each station came in tune, not really listening to the music flowing from the speakers. _What are you doing? You're so stupid. You know, there are less painful ways to commit suicide, _a less than enthused voice shouted in my mind as each minute brought us closer and closer to our destination. Your _destination; I have no part in this, _the highly opinionated voice reminded me. I'd like to call this voice my conscience, but, really, I think it's what killed my conscience. What was that Freudian junk we learned in Psychology last semester? Oh, right, the idiot – excuse me, id – versus the ego or super ego. Yeah, I'm fully convinced that my conscience consists of the id alone rather than all three. There's me and then there's the idiot and right now he is putting up one hell of an argument. _How am I the idiot? We could've been great! We were on top of the world, but you went and had unprotected sex with Puckerman and got knocked up! _You're _the idiot!_ I sighed, doing my best to ignore the berating voice constantly nagging me. _Sigh all you want; you know it's true. This decision? _Worse _than the last! _I shifted in my seat, wondering what the hell I got myself into as the car came to a stop.

"So, dear, what was it that you needed to do here again?" my mom asked hesitantly.

"I just need to talk to a…friend. I'll be out in a few minutes," I assured her before climbing out of the car and slowly making my way past the bright green grass and the multitude of flowers that were every color of the rainbow. I raised my fist, preparing to knock; knuckles poised an inch from the classy wooden door, I hesitated. _You can still turn back. It doesn't have to end this way. _Shut up, idiot! Bracing myself for the inevitable, I knocked.

"Hello, can I help you?"

A man in brown pressed slacks and a cashmere sweater answered the door, polite smile gracing his already friendly features. My stomach tightened as I realized just how little I deserved his kindness.

"Um…yeah, hi. Is Rachel here?" My heart thudded angrily in my chest, waiting for the moment when he'll recognize me and throw me to the wolves.

He looked surprised but pleased as he said "Oh, yes, of course. She's in her room. I can call her down for you."

"No, no. That's okay. I can go up there, if you don't mind."

"Oh, of course not. Go right ahead."

"Thanks," I whispered, tight lipped, in case the nausea took its toll and unleashed the Kraken. His overbearingly kind smile sent an obscene ripple of unease throughout my insides, effectively mirroring a dark, raging ocean; his was the smile of a father whose daughter was having her first friend over at their house. Knowing that I was a major – okay, probably the largest – reason for such a smile made me truly hate myself. _Oh, please, she's a geek. She had it coming,_ the voice up, shut up, shut _up_!

I stood outside her slightly cracked door, wanting nothing more than to run like the idiot was telling me to, like the coward that I've always been. Absently, my hand rested over my abdomen and I knew that the idiot was wrong; that the idiot had always been wrong; if I couldn't be a better person for myself, then I had to be for whoever it was that was growing beneath my fingertips. Before I could lose my nerve, I took a deep breath and knocked lightly. I heard a quick shuffling, like that of something being shoved hastily beneath a pillow, and waited with bated breath.

"Come in," a composed voice stated. I pushed the door open slowly and stepped into the room. Stupidly, I was not at all prepared for her reaction. She gasped and scrambled haphazardly off her bed and to the corner of her room that was farthest from me.

"I – I – I haven't t-talked to him in w-weeks. I s-swear," she stuttered, voice no longer composed and barely above a whisper. I took a step back, holding my hands up in surrender, immediately saying "I know. That's not why I'm here."

Her dark brown eyes were wide, frightened; like Bambi. God, I am such a bitch. How can I be such a heinous bitch? _You're not. You did what you had to do. She was scamming on your boyfriend! Besides, can we say "overreaction"? _I swear to god, idiot, if you don't shut up, I am going to go home and slit my wrists and you will _never again _get another say in _anything_! Just shut the fuck up!

I kept still so as not to startle her further as her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"I just came to talk. To – to apologize," I whispered, unsure, knowing now that an apology wasn't going to go a long way; not after what I did to her. Finn was so right about me. How could I have overlooked the fact that I had beaten a girl simply because I was _jealous_ of her? I had tortured her for months and, if her reaction to my presence was any indication, forced her to literally _fear _me like I'm the devil. What the hell is _wrong_ with me?

I looked down, whispering "God, Rachel, I'm so sorry," and I was. I was sorry to her and I was sorry to God; I was sorry to Finn and my mother and this baby that I was going to be responsible for for the rest of my life no matter whether I give it up for adoption or raise it myself; I was sorry to me and to every person I had tortured over the years. I was just…sorry; more than words could ever say.

As I was, I stared at this smart, beautiful, talented and, despite every deplorable thing I'd done to her, not at all broken girl and hated myself; not only for what I'd done, but for the fact that it took looking at her to realize just how wrong I've been about everything my entire life. It took one dreadful, irresponsible decision and less than a week of slushies and hatred from the whole student body for me to seriously contemplate suicide; yet, here was this girl who has had everything in the book thrown at her and taken from her time and time again still standing with her head held high.

I would bet my life – no, the life I had before all of this – that suicide had never been an option for her.

It took finally _seeing_ Rachel Berry for me to realize the person that I was, that I still _am_, even after falling so far: the Idiot. There is no distinction between the two of us, as I'd always thought; _I_ amthe Idiot.

After the whole school found out that I was pregnant; after I desperately tried to pin the pregnancy on Finn and listened to him reject me yet again; after my father found out and disowned me; after my mother sacrificed everything and walked out on him to support me; after suffering my first slushie facial and losing all of my friends; then, I thought I'd hit rock bottom. Only now, after stepping into Rachel Berry's princess pink bedroom, walls plastered with Broadway posters and encouraging quotes, did I realize that I'd hit rock bottom ages ago when I'd let myself become one with the Idiot. It took looking into the strong, fear-filled eyes of the one person whom I'd thought was the most opposite of me, the most _unworthy _of me to finally see everything clearly.

I wasn't just a "troubled teen" or a "bully"; no, I was an awful person. There was no getting around it and I had been in denial for far too long. This revelation, excuse the cliché, hit me like a ton of bricks. I must have carried a stunned expression since Rachel had taken a step toward me and whispered "Quinn...? Are you all right…?"

Which, of course, just made me feel worse since I forfeited any kindness by Rachel Berry the first time I called her "Fag Spawn" in the eighth grade.

"No," I answered. "I'm not, but considering everything I've done to you, my state of being isn't all that significant."

"Everyone's state of being is always significant," she countered, hands poised nervously at her sides. I shook my head slowly, wondering how I could have morphed into the Idiot while having repeated contact with someone as kindhearted as Rachel; then I felt even more like a bitch because I came here to make Rachel feel better – well, now that I'm being completely honestly with myself, I really came here to make myself feel better – and all I can think about is my own inadequacies. Looks like the Always Anonymous programs were right about the twelve steps; admitting you have a problem doesn't automatically cure you of it.

I sighed, "You're so much better than I am, Rachel. I'm sorry I ever caused you to doubt it. It's probably why you're the one I chose to torture the most."

A look of sadness intermixed with pity flashed across her face. I held my hands, palms facing toward her, up again to stop her from attempting to negate my words.

"Look, I didn't come here to get you to forgive me. In fact, I really hope you don't because a few words of apology doesn't at all make up for nearly three years of abuse. So, I'm not gonna ask for your forgiveness. I just came here to tell you that you don't have to worry about coming back to McKinley; I won't bother you anymore. You don't even have to take my word for it; I'm moving next week, so I won't be a student there anymore."

"You're moving? Why would you want to move? I mean, you have everything here…" she asked, genuinely shocked.

"Jesus. You really have been holed up here like a scared little mouse, haven't you?" I bit the inside of my lip as the insult slipped out. Stupid Idiot, I am. "Sorry. I didn't mean that."

She shrugged, "Don't worry about it."

"Things have…._changed _in the past month. Now that I can admit to myself how awful I am, I'd like to call it karma, but then that places the blame on something other than my poor decision making. I had sex; didn't use a condom. Needless to say, I'm pregnant." I whispered that last part, shame flushing my pale cheeks.

Eyes wide, mouth agape, she sucked in a startled breath. I nodded, having already heard it all. I heard quite a bit the day Santana overheard me trying to convince Finn that he was the father.

She swallowed slowly, composing her features as she went, before saying "So, you and…Finn – She broke off, seemingly unable to finish her sentence.

"Oh, God, no. He's also a much better person than I am. Which I'm sure you already know," I assured her. "I cheated. It was only once, but cliché of all clichés, that's all it takes. It's definitely not his."

Raising her eyebrows, she said "You're sure?" Then, clearly appalled at her question, she shook her head. "Sorry. That was rude."

I cracked a smile. "It's okay. I'm sure. We never slept together." Relief flashed so quickly across her features that I'm not sure whether or not I imagined it.

"Look, Rachel, I'm not gonna tell you to go back to McKinley. It's your decision. I'm just eliminating one of the possible reasons why you'd consider not going back," I said, then decided to do one better. "And…to maybe give you a reason to consider going back. He misses you. I mean, I haven't talked to him much, but he's…_different _now that you're gone. Not that he was the same guy he used to be after you guys became friends, but…I dunno. He doesn't talk anymore. He doesn't have friends…It isn't my business, I know. I just thought I'd tell you."

She nodded, seemingly considering my words.

"Thank you…for coming here…for being honest…for telling me that. I appreciate it," she whispered, eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

"Yeah, well, it's the least I can do," I muttered, hating the bitter tone in my voice.

"Not everything's your fault, you know," she suddenly said. "You were right to be upset. I _was _moving in on your boyfriend. For weeks, I was, and I spent no time at all contemplating you and the fact that he was already yours."

"Oh, please. Finn and I? We were all title, nothing more. The Cheerios voted him as the hottest boy in school, so I immediately set my sights on him. We went to a few parties together; we made out in the halls. It was an advanced version of middle school dating. We never saw each other outside of school functions," I scoffed.

"Still. The title was there. I knew what I was doing and I'm sorry for that." She glanced away from me, around her obsessively tidy bedroom, biting her lip all the while.

I chuckled lightly. "Finn said the same thing to me a month ago; said he felt guilty for thinking of another girl while being with me. Crazy guy felt guilty for _mentally _cheating on me. Ironic, especially since I _actually_ cheated on him, and didn't feel the least bit guilty until I found out I was pregnant." Now it was my turn to bite my lip; I hadn't meant to say that last part out loud.

"Finn's a great guy. I really screwed up there. I hope I didn't do the same to you guys…" I sighed. "All I can say is that the way he looks at you…He's never looked at me like that. Or anyone, as far as I know; it's kinda like a look he reserves specially for you. That look scared me way more than all the time you guys spent together. I was so jealous of that look; I wondered everyday why he never looked at me like that…" I trailed off.

"Do you love him?" she asked, uninhibited.

I shrugged noncommittally. I didn't know. All I knew was that I'd missed out on a great opportunity; on a happiness that I never really knew I'd wanted until it was out of my reach; although, seeing that look on his face even when he spotted Rachel rounding a corner, maybe such a happiness had never really been within my reach.

"My mom's waiting, so…I should probably get going," I heard myself saying. _Coward._ Oh, Idiot, you know me so well; might have something to do with you _being_ me.

As I turned to leave, her words stopped me.

"He sent you, didn't he?"

I turned back to her, hand still on the doorknob, fighting a smile. "I was expressively told not to answer you if such a question came up, but yeah. Of course, he did. He overheard a few teachers talking about your dads homeschooling you and he sought me out; asked me to make things right after I fucked them up so royally. I think he knew you'd guess he was behind it."

She nodded, slight grin forming.

"You're not a bad person, Quinn. You've just made mistakes. We all have; we're human, after all," she shrugged. "It's never too late to try to make things right; to be a better person for yourself or for…someone else." Her eyes flickered to my practically imperceptible baby bump.

I nodded, lips upturned ever-so-slightly in a smile, and raised my hand briefly in goodbye before leaving my tortured past behind me and embarking on a journey that will most definitely involve the Twelve Step Program.

_Glee!_

_(Rachel's POV)_

_ You can do this. It's just a normal day of school. Nothing out the ordinary…_

I shook my head, sighing, as the cream colored building came into view; the green metal doors opened and slammed shut, admitting student after student into its ranks. My gaze trained on each backpack rather than on each face, giving the impression of several multicolored dots scattered over a black surface. I failed to see the red Jansport with the gold star key chain amongst them.

A hand on my shoulder pulled me out of my colorful canvas.

"Are you sure you want to do this, sweetie? You don't have to…" my dad whispered.

Finn's face, wearing the look that Quinn swears he saves solely for me, popped into my mind. I still hadn't spoken to him; even after Quinn admitted that Finn had been the one to ask her to visit me. There hadn't been anything I could say that would have been enough; that would have made enough sense; that would have made up for the last five weeks. No, words weren't enough.

I turned to my dad, smile on my face. "I know I don't have to. I want to. I've never been surer; I promise." Reaching over the center console of the car, I hugged him as hard as the small space allowed us.

"You're a great dad," I whispered. "And I love you." I kissed him on the cheek and pulled away, grasping my bag in hand as I went. _It's never too late to make up for the mistakes that caused the people you love most to hurt._ Flashing him a famous Berry grin, I got out of the car, secured my backpack on my back, and became a pink dot on a black canvas.

Everything looked exactly the same, but completely different at the same time. Perhaps this was a reflection of myself; I knew without a doubt that I wasn't the same Rachel Berry that walked these halls over a month ago. I knew because, when I spotted his tall form towering over the faceless sea, perfectly un-perfect lips breaking into _that smile_, I didn't hesitate. Not for one second. I ran; I jumped; I was in his arms…And I fit. Perfectly.

"_You put your arms around me_

_And I'm home."_

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><p>I hope you enjoyed it! Please review! An epilogue may be in the works…<p> 


	5. Epilogue: It Feels Like Home to Me

_Author's Note: As promised, here is the epilogue and the definite final chapter of this story. I hope you enjoy._

_Disclaimer: I own naught but the plot._

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><p>The noise level rose to deafening heights as the stands continued to fill, each new addition a staggering instrument to the already cacophonous sound. I held back in the wings amongst the hundred or so red gown-clad seniors adding their own highly vocal instruments to the stadium's roar, despite the teachers' continued insistence that we "quiet down". <em>How can a hundred students have so much family?<em>, I thought. _Hell, there are only six people here for me and they came for two other people, too._ I sighed under my breath—the thought of all those people gathered forcing my stomach to clench painfully—before glancing to my right where a brown-haired boy of average height stood, slouched slightly, leaning against the grey stone wall pressed against my back. His brown eyes met mine—a small smile appearing—and he clapped a hand on my shoulder in an "everything's going to be fine" fashion. I tried and failed to smile back, managing a mere nod in response. He chuckled under his breath—no doubt finding my nerves humorous after my spending the majority of the last two plus years on stage—before swiftly unzipping his gown and pulling his cell phone out of his pants' pocket.

Assuming he was texting his boyfriend who was residing amongst the masses, I turned my gaze to the boisterous students—Derek and Avery; teammates of mine from football—rough-housing across from me. As their captain, I knew I should attempt to calm them down, but my increasing anxiety kept me silent and hunched against the wall. My feet shuffled of their own accord while I fidgeted continuously, unsure what to do my with my arms as the hideous gowns forced on us didn't contain pockets. _Seriously, though? No pockets? Where do people put their damn hands without pockets?_

"Will you stop? You're making me nervous just standing next to you," my brother whispered, his own arms crossed in front of his chest. Trying to mimic his relaxed stance, I ceased all movement and crossed my arms; it was like dousing a cat in water and expecting it to lie down and not make a sound. I began fidgeting again.

"Cue comfort," Kurt said, slight exasperation lilting his tone.

"What?" I asked, stepping away from the wall and turning toward him; it was the first word I'd said since lining up.

Suddenly soft, warm hands covered my eyes from behind. I wasn't sure if it was the distinct, not-at-all-overbearing floral smell; the feel of her amazing body pressed against my back; the sound of her gleeful gasp as her arms wrapped around me; my racing heart—or hers—that made my eyesight quite unnecessary to immediately identify the person behind me, but I didn't take the time to marvel as I grasped her hands in mine and spun to face her.

I glimpsed her famous Berry grin and long, dark brown hair set in graceful waves before ducking down and pulling her into my arms in a tight embrace.

"Hey," she whispered soothingly into my ear, hand running gently through my hair as she did so. "It's fine. You're going to do great. Trust me. Everything's going to be fine."

Having her in my arms, breathing her in, hearing her calming voice, my nerves seemed to ease from me with each slow exhale. She pulled back slightly, hands resting against my cheeks, bright brown eyes holding my own.

"This is no different than the Championship Game last week; no different than each night as lead in _Spring Awakening_; no different than Nationals in New York…No, you know what? This _is _different. This is _easier_ than all those things. Trust me. You'll be fine," she grinned and I couldn't help but do the same. Standing on tiptoe, she pressed her lips to mine—encouragement and faith not only radiating throughout her words, but her kiss as well. I pulled her closer, my tongue slipping effortlessly, in a well-practiced move, past her parted lips. Sighs escaped both our mouths as my fingers ran up her jaw line and into the dark waves cascading down her back; her arms tightened infinitesimally around my neck, which only served to somehow bring her body even closer to mine.

_Hem Hem_. A muffled cough from my right reminded me of our surroundings. Silence—aside from the stifled giggles from our classmates—engulfed us. Mr. Schue stood in front of us between the two lines of red, barely contained smile upturning his lips.

"Rachel, the "B's" are at the front of the line. These are the "H's"," Mr. Schue stated before inclining his head toward the open mouth of the corridor where the stone walls met the bottom half of the stands on each side.

Rachel disentangled herself from me, gave me a quick kiss, winked at Kurt, and walked confidently back to her spot between Nancy Bell and Jake Brunner. Shaking his head, Mr. Schue made his way toward the front. I looked over at Kurt and, meeting his eyes, silently thanked him for texting Rachel; he nodded once before turning his attention to Mr. Schue. It hadn't even been two full years since our parents' married, but for all intents and purposes, Kurt and I were brothers in every way. We had each other's back; always.

"All right, everyone! We're just about to start. Remember to keep in your respective lines and refrain from any funny business; we can't keep your diploma, but we _can_ have you physically removed from the ceremony. It's up to you whether your family's disappointment is worth the theatrics that "going out with a bang" entails." His eyes roamed quickly over the bodies of red and landed on several of the guys from the football team. Derek and Avery smirked; Puck discreetly punched each in the stomach before nodding in confidence at Mr. Schue; Pomp and Circumstance began blaring from the speakers placed inconspicuously throughout the stadium. "And that's your cue! Good luck and congratulations to each of you!"

He rushed back down the corridor to leave Jasmine Albright and Mark Mason to lead their respective lines onto the grassy field of the stadium.

I took a deep breath as my black, brand new, and deviously shiny dress shoes sunk into the perfectly cut green—their feel one of disconcerting difference when compared to my muddy, well-worn football cleats—and made my way to the blindingly white chairs set neatly in rows precisely in between the 40 yard lines. Walking down the aisle of seats, I passed my girlfriend who, of course, flashed her brilliant smile that made the glorious sunlight pale in comparison; I grinned back before ducking swiftly to place a well-aimed kiss on her cheek, not even hesitating long enough to hold up the line of students trailing after me. The laugh that I loved so much pierced the already musical air and I couldn't help but wonder how such a simple sound could be one of my very favorites. As I took my seat three rows behind Rachel, I trailed my gaze through the stands to find my mom, Burt, Rachel's dads, Blaine, and Rachel's mom waving excitedly from the third row. Kurt and I both waved back before bringing our attention to the podium where Principal Figgins stood waiting for the last of the music to ebb.

"Thank you for coming to McKinley High's 2012 Graduation! We are very proud to send these students out into the world as hard working, educated, and inspiring adults! Their achievements as high school students are many and we're quite excited to see them achieve more and more long after today. We have quite a few students who have already been accepted to incredible universities and their teachers could not be prouder: Miss Rachel Berry and Mr. Kurt Hummel have both been accepted to the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts; Mr. Mark Mason has been accepted to Sarah Lawrence College; Miss Nancy Bell has been accepted to both Yale University and the University of Southern California; all prestigious and highly accredited universities. As I said, we could not be more proud of this year's graduating class! Now, I'd like to call upon Mr. Schuester who'll be introducing this year's Valedictorian. Mr. Schuester teaches Spanish and instructs our indescribable Glee Club who recently took home first place in the National Show Choir competition!"

Figgins clapped along with the audience as he stepped back from the podium to allow Mr. Schue to take his place. Standing before the podium, a smile lit his face as his gaze trailed from the large crowd in the stands to the much smaller group of crimson sitting before him."I have been fortunate to know many of these students very well. My Glee Club students: It has been an incredible three years and I will miss each one of you so much—yes, you too Puck." A smattering of laughter from each Glee student revealed their places amongst the masses. "I can't thank each of you enough for everything that you've done for me. In beginning this club and in being able to teach such inspiring and dedicated students, I've regained that passion for teaching that had somehow fizzled out after my first few years. Thank you for reigniting that fire." A burst of applause and several _whoop whoops_ greeted his words. He grinned and gestured modestly with his hands before the echoes faded.

"When I first met this year's Valedictorian, he was a wildly popular sophomore and a talented athlete; he'd had a tough academic year as a freshman and so he came into his second year convinced that he just wasn't meant to do well in school. At this point, he simply made sure that his grades were high enough to qualify for athletics. It was about midway through the year when he received his first A on a Spanish test and auditioned for Glee Club that I saw a change occur. I'm not sure what exhibited such a change, but he began to excel in not only athletics, but in his classes and Glee Club as well. As the years have gone by, I've watched him become more and more ambitious and succeed well passed what he'd believed for himself coming into McKinley. And I'm proud to say, after years of incredible success as a drama student, he will be attending Tisch School of the Arts at New York University this fall! Please put your hands together for Mr. Finn Hudson!"

The stands erupted and, all around me, students, teachers, and parents alike got to their feet in tumultuous applause. I stood and weaved my way through my peers who all bore the same hideous gowns that were High School's last ditch attempt at uninhibited humiliation; anonymous hands caught my back and shoulders—the mere brush of slender fingers against my hand all too familiar—as I went. The look of absolute confidence and pride on Mr. Schue's face as I met him at the podium where he embraced me like a father—if he were old enough to be considered as much—nearly brought tears to my eyes, for I had never believed that I could do enough, or be enough, to illicit such faith and respect. I smiled as he clapped me on the back and turned to take a seat behind me. The applause died down as my gaze travelled slowly over the multicolored crowd before me; I paused momentarily at the tear stained face of my mom, the ever encouraging eyes of Burt, the slight nod of confidence from my brother, and—finally—the bright smile and two thumbs up given by my girlfriend before clearing my throat softly and leaning forward over the mic.

"So I had this huge speech prepared—written, memorized, and rehearsed like the actor that I am—but, now that I really think about it and now that I'm here in front of all of you, I realize it's probably nothing you haven't heard before. I was gonna stand here and tell you—in a completely clichéd and cheery voice—that this is just the beginning, that our lives can finally start, that we're free, yadda yadda yadda. Like I said; nothing you haven't heard before.

Instead, I'm gonna spend a minute marveling at the modernity of McKinely High. I mean, let's face it, when was the last time that one singular solitary student was the captain of the football team—shout out to my teammates who kicked ass last week! (multiple hollers and a 'hell yeah!' from Puck reached my ears)—, co-captain of Glee Club—another shout out! (cheers and an even louder 'hell yeah' from Puck), an extremely active member in the drama department, _and_, of all things, valedictorian? I haven't done any research, but I'm guessing it's not all that common an occurrence. Some of you may be thinking that I'm just special—which, I can tell you, isn't the case; no, the real reason why I stand before you today after having done everything I have is because of these people right here." I swept my arm across the stage where our teachers sat and continued to point towards my classmates as well.

"All of these people made it possible for me to join football, Glee Club, Drama, and still succeed in my classes without any fear of retribution for doing so. Every school has its hardships: bullying and cliques are never nonexistent. In fact, three years ago, McKinley was absolutely wrought with such horrors, but thanks to Mr. Schue, Principal Figgins, and all the teachers banding together to create a more tolerant atmosphere, students can now explore what high school truly has to offer and figure out who the hell they are without worrying that they'll be beaten up for doing so. Because of all of these amazing educators sitting behind me and the compliant student body, my brother was able to take his boyfriend to prom, my absolute drama/glee club/not-a-cheerleader-gene-within-her girlfriend was able to run for Senior Class President—and win!—and, by nothing short of a miracle, Finn Hudson—the gawky, _still_-cannot-dance, never-believed-he-could-amount-to-anything jock—was able to become Valedictorian. I want to thank you, all of you. Thank you for everything that you've done for me, for all of us." Applause and cheers erupted throughout the stadium at my words.

"That being said, if there is anything at all that you take from the years of going to this school, from this impromptu speech, it's this: accept people for who they are and, most of all, accept yourself for who _you_ are! If you're currently sitting before me unsure of whom that is, that's okay! Accept that about yourself: It is entirely okay if you do not know, especially right now. It's easy as all hell to judge people for who they are and use that to define yourself, but I think we've all learned by now that that's the coward's way of life. If I'd taken the easy route, I'd probably be sitting next to Kurt Hummel—not knowing him at all since our parents met through their sons' interest in Glee Club, which was definitely not part of the easy route—not at all listening to whomever would be up here in my place, probably receiving my diploma simply because I'm decent in sports, and definitely with no belief that I could go to college in New York City or to any college at all, for that matter; the easy route may seem easy to begin with, but long term? It sounds pretty rough from where I stand. So, you know, because clichéd sayings are around for a reason, do what makes you happy, surround yourself with people who kick you when you feel like giving up, and always, always be open-minded because it's just so much more productive to open doors instead of closing them.

So, there it is, my advice to prepare for what's to come. Take it or leave it; doesn't matter to me, really, because we all know that, for most of you, this'll be the last time you see me. Either way, I wanna thank you all for making my high school experience what it was: pretty fucking awesome. Congratulations, Class of 2012!"

Laughter and applause echoed throughout the stadium as I practically skipped off stage. After having delivered a speech completely on the fly—improv at its finest—I couldn't believe I'd been so anxious. What was one speech, really, after years of performing in front of much more critical audiences than the parents of my high school peers? No wonder Kurt and Rachel looked at me like I'd forgotten who I was; apparently I actually had forgotten. All morning, I'd been the Finn Hudson who thought that he wasn't worth a damn; all morning, I'd been the Finn Hudson who simply thought he was just too stupid to get a decent grade, so why try? Let's face it: all morning, I'd been the Finn Hudson prior to the day he'd returned a certain star patterned journal to one Rachel Berry after English all those years ago; the Finn Hudson who'd looked into those bright brown eyes in search of nothing in particular, but found so much more than he'd bargained for.

What I'd said about our teachers allowing me to be who I am today was true; with their help, the journey we're all forced to take to find ourselves was made slightly easier: it definitely included less roadblocks and undeserved pain, but their involvement wasn't what instigated the journey. It was those eyes; those eyes that told me I really _could_ do _anything_. Mr. Schue wondered what had brought about that change in my sophomore year: simply put, it was Rachel. Of course, it was Rachel. It still is Rachel. It will always be Rachel.

And, as though my consistent calling of her name drew her to me, her eyes—_those_ eyes—met mine from across the people strewn yard of the Hummel/Hudson backyard where she stood chatting animatedly with Kurt and my grandma. My gaze flickered momentarily to the nearly empty house to my right; she nodded infinitesimally before politely excusing herself and following me as I walked to the back door. I held it open for her—not a word passing between us—and followed her up to my bedroom.

She sat on my bed, eyes raking the expanse of the room before her, face passive and thoughtful, perhaps truly taking it in for the first time despite the many hours spent confined within it over the past few years. I stood in the doorway, not quite in the room, shoulder leaning nonchalantly against the doorjamb.

"Do you remember the first time I came into your bedroom?" she asked, small smile gracing her features in reminiscence. I grinned and nodded.

"I was _so_ _nervous_ being in the great Finn Hudson's bedroom…" She trailed off, shaking her head slightly. "I've never really noticed how much it's changed over the years."

I looked around, taking in the same drum set I've had for years nestled neatly in the corner, its sticks resting atop the snare drum; the crooked music stand struggling to carry the weight of my immense binder holding only scores from this year's set of musicals and glee events; my completely unorganized desk scattered with notes and research from the hectic week that preceded finals; the black, floor to ceiling shelves housing anything from books to plays to scores to textbooks to DVDs; my football jersey and gym bag slipping from within the partially open door of my closet; and, finally, to the corkboard that pinned seemingly hundreds of pictures of the past three years of my life as well as various photos from the years prior to that: it was hard to miss that many of them featured Rachel. I even had her old fifth grade school photo pinned next to my own. I let my gaze fall back to her, shrugging slightly.

"Not really. I mean, it's a little messier now that we've been together for years and you know juuuust how messy I can be. That first time? I really made sure everything was put away. I even sprayed some Febreeze. Now you know that that subtle musk coming from the closet is all man." I winked, causing a light peel of laughter to fill my ears. She looked down, her smile fading somewhat before again meeting my gaze.

"That first time…Did you ever think…someday…we'd be here, like this?"

A soft sigh, a twitch of the lips.

"Honestly? No." Her eyes slipped from mine, disappointment tugging them down like the tide inevitably shrinking back in. "But I hoped."

Light brown met dark and suddenly, in a move that never seemed to need practice, she was in my arms and my lips were seamlessly covering hers: gentle, unhurried, like we'd have all the time in the world for anything. Pulling apart slightly—lips separating—I let my forehead rest softly against hers, our breathing perfectly in sync.

"I love you so much, Rach," I whispered. "It used to scare me how much, but it doesn't anymore…because I know you feel the same way. This…" I trailed the tips of my fingers gently down her spine, my other hand climbing slowly up her arm and ending where her hand pressed against my cheek. Sighs of contentment flowed involuntarily passed our parted lips. "This tells me every day…"

She pressed her lips against mine; once, twice, a tantalizingly slow third time before pulling back enough so that the tilt of her neck could make up for the near twelve inches of height separating us.

"I love you more than music…And, you know, that's saying a lot. You were neck and neck for a while, but now it's a pretty close second." She chuckled lightly, the sparkle in her eyes letting me in on the joke. I laughed, my hand weaving its way into her mahogany waves seemingly of its own volition.

"Thank you," I said, smile as bright as the damn sun, if only to reflect how happy I am to have simply known anyone as incredibly big as this tiny girl in my arms.

"For what?" she asked, completely oblivious, as always, of the effect her presence has in, not just _my_ world, but the world in general.

"For everything."

She grinned shyly, her keen mind grasping my meaning, yet still unwilling to believe it. I smiled, forever finding it strange that someone as confident as Rachel, someone who could instill such confidence in others, could be so reluctant to believe. One day, I'd make her see. Rising deftly onto the tiptoes of the perfect dancer feet that she swears she isn't, she brought her lips to mine in a kiss that made me forget entirely about the apparent evolution of my bedroom, the party going on outside, and the frighteningly unsure future ahead. I forgot it all because, just like for the first time in sophomore year, she was in my arms.

And I was home.

_I've never truly loved 'til_

_You put your arms around me_

_And I'm home_

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><p><em>Thank you! Please, please review! I'd love to know what you think!<em>


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